Dinner and a Movie
by Zan1781
Summary: What REALLY happened between Warrick and Tina? Neither Sara nor Warrick are having great weeks. Will dinner and a movie make everything all better? [Swarrick, SaraJim friendship]. Complete.
1. Dinner and a Movie

**A/N:** This has been rolling around in my head for a little while. The second and third chapters will go back in time a little bit to explain what prompted Sara and Warrick to go to the movie theater in the first place, and the fourth chapter will continue on with dinner. I think. This is my first ever attempt at Warrick/Swarrick, but I hope you all like it anyhow!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_Dinner and a Movie_

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"I'd like one ticket, please," Sara announced to the pimply-faced, greasy-haired teenager manning the ticket booth. It had been a long week full of one disappointment after another, and Sara was at her wits-end. She was in desperate need of some sort of a release, and because alcohol was not an option, she decided to go see a movie. Alone. _It won't be the quietest place in the world to go, but… at least I won't have to think. Or drink._

"The movie started ten minutes ago, Ma'am, but if you move quickly enough, you should only miss the previews," the cashier informed her. Sara simply nodded. "Enjoy the show!" he then added, smiling, as he slid the ticket through the hole in the glass window.

_Ma'am? Am I really that old? _Sara sighed, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the _Pirates of the Caribbean _movie poster hanging along one of the orange and green neon-colored lobby walls. _Because the definition of 'ma'am' is… well… okay; it's a 'refined lady.' I guess I can handle that, _she shrugged, frowning, as she took note of the faint scent of decomp emanating from her clothing, intertwining with the movie theater's smell of freshly popped and buttered popcorn. Wrinkling her noise, Sara immediately continued on past the concession stand, realizing that there was no way in hell that she could ever possibly consume decomp-flavered popcorn. _Disgusting_.

Lost in her own little world, Sara then glanced down at the theater number on her ticket stub, once again sighing. "Thirteen… why am I not surprised?" she mumbled to herself, following the signs to theater number thirteen. "_Pirates of the Caribbean_. This movie better be good," she added, pushing the door wide open, and walking just inside of the darkened theater, standing in the back of the auditorium, in order to give her eyes the opportunity to adjust to the dimmed atmosphere. Once Sara was able to see again, she groaned, as she observed row after row of already occupied seats. "Nice timing."

"Shh!" a boy of around sixteen years old admonished her. "The movie's about to start!"

Sara just raised an eyebrow, slowly making her way down the aisle, as she scanned for an empty seat. "Damn it," she hissed under her breath, as she found a seat in the second row of the theater. _Could I get any closer to the screen? I prefer the back of the auditorium, although… I guess I don't really have that much of a choice. _"Excuse me, I'm sorry; please, let me through," she whispered to the other occupants of the row, quickly crawling over their laps in her haste to reach one of the theater's only available seats. _Of course… you'd have to be in the middle of the row, right? _"Sorry," she muttered aloud, as she accidentally slammed her heel down on someone else's foot.

"Hurry up!" a young woman in the row behind her called out. "I can't see!"

Sara glanced up at the screen, frowning. _The previews are still showing. I know they're important, but… what's to actually see? _And then biting her lip, she rethought her decision to go out on the town tonight. _Of all of the movies to choose from, you chose to see a brand-new one, Sara? What the hell is wrong with you? _she asked herself. _It's crowded, you're late, you're in the way_, she went on and on, finally reaching the empty seat, and throwing her body down into the safety of the ripped and bubble-gummed chair. Taking a deep breath, she sighed, staring up at the screen. _But at least I'm just in time_.

Before Sara could really make herself comfortable, however, she heard a familiar voice calling her name. "Hey, Sara!" someone hissed at her. "What are you doing here?" the man asked again.

Slowly turning her head toward the sound of the voice, Sara's eyes widened, as she noticed Warrick Brown sitting just a few seats away from her. "What are _you _doing here?" she immediately shot back.

"Long story, girl," Warrick frowned, leaning toward her, oblivious of the two people sitting in between them.

"Do you mind, Sir?" the man directly next to him asked.

"Sorry, man," Warrick whispered. "Would you, uh, mind moving?"

Giving Warrick a heavy sigh, the man quickly stood up, motioning for both his girlfriend and Sara to also stand, while leaning against the seat so that Sara could slip past the two of them.

"Thank you," Sara mumbled, as she sat down beside Warrick. "So… what are you doing here?" she again whispered, leaning close enough to his ear so that only he could hear her question. _What… is that smell? _she wondered to herself. _It's actually not that bad! Soap and aftershave?_

"Tina," Warrick replied, trying not to shiver at the feeling of Sara's warm breath tickling his ear. "You?"

"Long week," she shrugged, finally noticing the large bag of buttered popcorn resting comfortably on one of his knees.

"See something you like, Sara?" Warrick softly chuckled, following her gaze to the bag.

Sara shook her head no, remembering the smell of decomp and buttered popcorn. "But thank you, anyhow. So… why isn't Tina here with you?" she quietly probed, as another preview started to run.

"There _is_ no more Tina," Warrick quietly informed her. "But that's a story for another time."

Sara raised an eyebrow, processing this new piece of information. _What… happened? _she wanted to ask him. But regardless of her curiosity, Sara nodded her head in understanding. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

Warrick opened his mouth as if to say something else to Sara, quickly shutting it moments later, when the theater dimmed all of the way, and the movie began. _What are the odds of running into you here, Sara? _he asked himself. _And in fact, you rarely ever go out just for fun. Why the hell are you here?_

Twenty minutes into the movie, Sara sighed, when her stomach started to growl. _Damn, I'm hungry_. _What I wouldn't give for some food right about now. I wonder if I can sneak out of this row, without anyone wanting to lynch me?_

Biting back a chuckle at the sound of Sara's stomach growling, Warrick carefully picked up the half-empty bag of popcorn, lightly poking her shoulder with it. "Want some?" he mouthed to her.

Sara suspiciously eyed the bag, shrugging her shoulders in the affirmative. Gingerly digging her hand into the buttery and salty treat, she came up with a handful of popcorn, flashing Warrick a quick gapped-tooth thank-you grin. "Thank you," she mouthed back, returning her attention to the movie. _That was very nice of you!_

Warrick just nodded at Sara, before facing forward, and continuing to watch the movie.

_Hungry… _Sara thought to herself, thirty minutes later, staring out of the corner of her eye at the bag of popcorn still lazily sitting on Warrick's lap. _He won't mind if I take some more, I don't think_, she added, as she pursed her lips, and very quietly inched her fingers toward the popcorn bag.

Warrick grinned, as he watched Sara's hand snake into the bag, coming out with another large handful. _You thought you could pull one over on me, huh? _he thought to himself. _Oh, no, girl. Nice try, though! _he smiled.

Two hours later, Sara stretched in her seat, blinking against the harsh glare of the theater's lights. "Well, that wasn't so bad," she admitted, glancing over at Warrick. "Actually, it's really better than I thought it would be."

"Nope, it wasn't bad at all," he squinted at her. "I must have been hungry, though," he shrugged, tipping the now empty bag of popcorn upside down, and watching several crumbs—and nothing else—tumble to the ground.

"Oh… yeah, you must have been," Sara gave him a weak smile. "Sorry about that!" she immediately added. "Please, let me buy you some dinner. It's the least that I can do for stealing all of your popcorn." _And I don't want to go home just yet._

"Dinner sounds nice," Warrick told her, slowly walking toward the end of their row, and up the aisle toward the theater's exit. _And besides: I no longer have anything to go home to._

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	2. The Sun City Diner

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all of your kind comments and reviews. As I mentioned, I've never written for Warrick before; I just wanted to give it a try! Hopefully this chapter will be as enjoyable for all of you as the first one was.

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_The Sun City Diner_

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**The Sun City Diner**

The Sun City Diner occupied a very tiny piece of land, five miles from the main drag of Las Vegas Boulevard. Although the restaurant was by far one of the best places to eat in the entire city, it was considered a 'hole in the wall,' and tourists rarely visited the eatery; which is why it was one of Warrick's favorite places to frequent.

After climbing out of her car, and staring up at the façade of the building, Sara raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Warrick, are you sure that this place is… sanitary?" she hesitantly asked him.

"Of course I am, Sara," he smiled, walking over to her car and leaning against the side paneling. "You've really never eaten here before?" he asked her, completely surprised.

Sara slowly shook her head no, frowning at the dilapidated building standing in front of her. _Truth be told, Warrick, it looks like it could be the location of a crime scene: the paint is chipping, the sign is broken, the door is rusty. I hope that the food here is safe to consume!_

"I know that it doesn't look like much," Warrick carefully told her. "But I assure you, the food here is really pretty good. If you'd rather, though, we can still go somewhere else," he offered, glancing at the diner. _But it's quiet here, girl._ _And I'd like to talk to you_, _without mobs of tourists interrupting us_.

"No, this place is fine," Sara replied, mustering up a smile for him. Shutting her car door, she stood just beside Warrick, waiting for him to lead her inside. "If you say it's good, I'm sure it's good."

"It's not just good," Warrick flashed her another small smile. "It's _damn _good."

Sara chuckled, as they finally started to move toward the Sun City Diner. "Well when you put it like that," she grinned at him. "I'm sure it'll be perfectly fine."

Warrick nodded, holding the door open for her so that she could walk past him. As he followed her inside, he was instantly hit with the great smell of cooking food. Grease, mixed with the scent of cheese, meat, fries, onions, and tuna fish, instantly hit his nose, causing him to smile in anticipation of the meal that he was about to eat. Rubbing his hands together, he stood beside Sara, waiting for a hostess to come and show them where to sit.

Noticing the décor of the tiny restaurant, Sara's eyes widened with interest; the walls were covered in images of old downtown Las Vegas, giving the place a sort of vintage feel to it. "Excellent," she commented, as her gaze fell upon photos of some of Las Vegas's greatest actors, singers, politicians, and heroes. _This place might actually have some potential_, she thought to herself.

Catching a glimpse of Sara's appreciative expression, Warrick nodded his approval. "I like the photographs, too," he informed her, as Jennifer, their waitress, walked up to them. Smiling at the young woman, he quickly said, "Two, nonsmoking, please."

"Right this way, Sir, Ma'am," she nodded, grabbing two menus from the tray, and leading Warrick and Sara toward a fairly empty end of the establishment. "Our specials for today are grilled cheese with tomato soup, meatloaf, spaghetti with or without meatballs, and a tuna melt with French fries." _Hot damn, you're good looking_, she thought to herself, unobtrusively checking Warrick out.

"Thank you," Sara smiled at the other woman, accepting the menu from her, and narrowing her eyes. _Are you checking him out? _she wanted to asked the waitress. _I think you are! _she grinned, waiting for her to leave. Once she was gone, Sara cleared her throat, deciding to keep her observation to herself. "So… what's good here?" she asked him, instead.

"Well," Warrick mused. "Pretty much everything, actually," he grinned at her over the top of her menu. "But I have to get a barbecue bacon cheeseburger. Would you mind?"

Sara raised an eyebrow, expertly holding back her gag reflex. "Not at all, Warrick. That's fine," she assured him. _Burnt cow on a bun, several slices of burnt pork, a slice of cheese, all smothered in barbecue sauce. Tasty. _"I think I'm going to have the grilled cheese and tomato soup, though," she announced. "I'm feeling a little bit chilly, and I think that the soup will warm me up," she glanced down at her short-sleeved shirt, frowning. _You knew that it was going to be cold today. Why didn't you plan ahead?_

"I'm sorry, Sara," Warrick instantly replied, concern filling his eyes. "Would you rather just go home? We can grab food some other time!" he told her. _Although… again, I really have nothing to go home to._

Sara shook her head no, raising her gaze to meet Warrick's. _I really don't want to be home alone right now, so food is fine. _"I'm okay, I promise you," she assured him, smiling up at the waitress when she arrived to take their orders.

"What can I get for you, Ma'am?" Jennifer asked, chewing on a piece of gum, and holding her order pad up in front of her face.

"I think I'll have the grilled cheese with tomato soup special," Sara informed her, sliding the menu to the very edge of the table.

"Anything to drink?"

"Just some water, please." _I hope the glasses are clean, though_, Sara thought to herself.

Jennifer nodded, before returning her attention to Warrick. "And for you?" _Sweet cheeks._

"Uh…" Warrick frowned at the waitress. "I'll have the barbecue bacon cheeseburger," he told her, handing over the menu. "With a glass of coke to drink."

"Your orders will be up in a few minutes," Jennifer smiled at the two, before turning on her heels, and walking away.

Sara raised an eyebrow. "So, what's going on with you, Warrick?" she quietly asked her friend and colleague. _Might as well just cut to the chase._

Warrick sighed, leaning back against the booth, his legs sprawled out in front of him, underneath the table. "Tina is upset with me," he admitted. "I think this could be the end, Sara."

"What makes you think that, Warrick?" she asked, staring down at the table. "I mean, couples fight, right? It can't be all that bad." _My parents certainly fought. They fought all of the time, as a matter of fact._

Warrick shrugged. "This time it can be all that bad; she kicked me out, and then sent me my wedding band by way of certified mail."

This little piece of information made Sara stop in confusion. "What? Why?" she bombarded him with questions, before frowning, and forcing herself to slow down. "Wait a minute, I'm sorry, Warrick. That's really none of my business."

"It's okay," Warrick tried to smile. "I mean, damn, I really brought this one upon myself. I accused her of cheating on me," he again shrugged.

Sara looked up at Warrick, not entirely sure what to say. "And you were wrong?" she simply asked him.

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**The Brown Residence, several months prior**

"Honey, I'm home!" a very excited Warrick announced, stepping through the front door of the home that he shared with his wife, Tina. Clutching a dozen red roses in his hands, he carefully set his kit down in the front hallway, kicking off his shoes. "Tina?" he called out. "Baby, where are you?" _I know that I'm home early, but Grissom let us all go a couple of hours ahead of schedule. Somethin' about a new incentive program, to make us value our jobs a little bit more. Works for me though,_ he grinned to himself, trying to wipe the smile off of his face.

_Damn, it's cold in here! _Warrick shivered, walking into the living room in order to check the thermostat. _Seventy? C'mon, baby, you know the rules. Air conditioning is expensive. Seventy-four degrees is perfect_, he frowned, changing the set temperature, and nodding in satisfaction as he heard the air conditioning unit definitively click off. "Tina?" he called out again, moving into the kitchen, and setting the flowers down on the counter.

Glancing over at the kitchen table, Warrick grinned. _Baby, that's so nice of you! _he thought to himself, taking in the table set for two; plates, napkins, silverware, and flowers. _The only thing missing now is my beautiful wife_, he mused, as he once again picked up the roses, clutching them tightly in his sweaty palm. _Damn, Nicky, the flowers were a great idea. She'll love these; I know she will_, he smiled, as he slowly continued his journey through the house. _But I wonder what's going to be for breakfast? I could go for some bacon and eggs… that's for sure._

_So where are you hiding, Tina? _Quietly glancing up the stairs, Warrick frowned, before remembering that he was actually home a little bit early today. _I betcha my baby is sleeping like a baby_, he grinned to himself, before slowly starting to climb up the stairs. _Well that's fine by me_.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Warrick stiffened, as he heard noises coming from his bedroom. "Tina?" he softly called out, not wanting to frighten her any more than she was apparently already frightened. "It's just me, baby!" he announced himself a little bit more loudly. _Damn! I shoulda called ahead or somethin'!_

Resuming his trek down the hallway, Warrick stopped once more, after hearing something crash to the ground. "It's okay! I'm okay!" he heard his wife's voice call out, as the unmistakable sound of the shower water being shut off in the master bathroom filled his ears.

_I talk to myself when no one is around, too, _Warrick broke out into a grin. _But at least now I know why you weren't answering me. You were just taking a shower! _Closing the rest of the distance between himself and the bedroom, Warrick turned the knob, and flung the door wide open.

At that moment, a totally nude Tina, complete with water dripping from her body, stepped out of the confines of the master bathroom. "Well hot damn," Warrick teased her. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he commented, leaning against the doorframe.

"Warrick?" Tina froze, the smiling suddenly disappearing from her face. "Why are you home so early?" she asked him, her face turning ashen.

"Why am I home so early?" he repeated her question, feeling the temperature in the room drop another five degrees with the tone of her voice. But then Warrick caught movement out of the corner of his eye. _What's that? Do we have a puppy that I don't know about? _he asked himself, his brain trying to rationalize movement that should not be in his bedroom.

"You're… you're not supposed to be home for another two hours!" his wife protested.

_Don't do it, Warrick. Don't turn your head. It will only confirm what you already suspect_. But his head disobeyed his brain, as Warrick turned his gaze to take in the bed. "Who the hell are you?" he angrily hissed.

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**The Sun City Diner**

"And you were wrong?" Sara quietly repeated her question, concerned at the blankness in her friend's eyes.

Warrick slowly shook his head. "No. Damn it, I was right."

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	3. The Betrayal

**A/N:** First of all, thank you to **Ruzila **and **Joy22 **from Talk CSI, for their much needed Tina facts; some of their facts gave me an idea for this chapter. And secondly, I really want to thank all of you for your comments on the previous chapter. I am glad that people are reading this fic, and I am so excited to know that you are enjoying what you are reading. Hopefully, this chapter won't disappoint you!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_The Betrayal_

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**The Sun City Diner**

Ignoring everyone else in the diner except for Sara, Warrick frowned. "Long story short," he stared down at his barbecue bacon cheeseburger. "I caught her with another man. And I'm not talking about catching her with another man doing something innocuous, either."

"Oh," Sara sighed, her attention completely on her friend. "I'm really sorry, Warrick. I know how that feels," she mumbled, remembering Hank, and how he had led her on. _And the feeling is not a good one. _Glancing down at her grilled cheese, Sara twirled a Fry fry in one hand, before dipping it into her ketchup, and looking up at him again. "So you said that she kicked you out, after you found them?"

Warrick simply nodded, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. "She kicked me out that night, and said that it was over between the two of us. It's actually ironic, though," he continued, raising his gaze to meet hers.

"What is?" Sara asked, a little bit puzzled.

"We're supposed to be criminalists, right? Criminalists from one of the best crime labs in the country?" Sara nodded. "Well, I didn't even see this coming. I mean, hell, she must have been sleeping with him for months, in my bed, right under my nose; and the great Warrick Brown didn't even notice it," he heavily sighed. _Talk about irony._

Sara picked up another French fry, dipping it into her ketchup. Pursing her lips, she took a moment to carefully choose her words, before popping the fry into her mouth. "If you were in love, Warrick," she chewed and swallowed her food. "I can understand why you wouldn't have noticed anything wrong. Your… love would have contributed to you being unaware of everything that was going on around you." _At least I've heard that love can be blinding._

Warrick raised an eyebrow. "But that's just it, Sara. Tina accused me of never loving her in the first place. And in hindsight, she might have been right."

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**The Brown Residence, several months prior**

"Who the hell are you?" Warrick repeated his question, dropping the roses to the ground beside him. "Huh? Who the hell are you?" he stared at the man, waiting for some sort of an answer to his question.

The man looked from Tina, to Warrick, and back to Tina again, anxiously tucking the rumpled sheet around his lower body. "I, uh—" he stammered. Glancing down at the bed, the man frowned. _Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!_

"Warrick," Tina cautiously spoke up, trying to get his attention. "Warrick, this isn't what it looks like!"

"Oh?" Warrick asked, frowning. "And just what _does_ this look like to you, Baby? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like my wife is stepping out on me."

"Warrick, I just—" Tina started to say.

"Wait a minute," Warrick hissed, as his gaze fell upon the clothing strewn around the bedroom floor. "I don't understand," he frowned, as he took in her nurse's uniform, a pair of green scrubs, and the part of a last name embossed on a hospital nametag. But truth be told, Warrick did understand; he now knew exactly what was going on, although his mind still refused to accept the truth that his eyes were trying to show him. _Are you… are you cheating on me with one of the doctors from your hospital?_

"Robert, maybe you should just leave," Tina whispered.

Warrick immediately snapped his head back toward the bed, squinting at the mystery man. _Okay, so I wasn't one-hundred percent correct. _"Oh, no. Oh _hell _no!" he screamed, getting a good look at the person occupying the middle of his bed. "Robert? The ex-husband doctor, Tina? Shit!" he yelled.

"Warrick, I'm sorry, we just—" she tried to explain.

"What the _hell _are you doing here, Robert?" Warrick interrupted her statement, as his eyes narrowed. Without giving the man a chance to reply, he continued. "I don't believe this, Tina! You're cheating on me with your ex-husband? What the hell!"

Robert finally sprang into action, climbing out of the bed, with the sheet still wrapped tightly around his waist. "Tina, I'll call you later," he mumbled, trying to scoop up his clothing as quickly as possible.

"Like _hell _you will!" Warrick angrily told him, watching as Robert gathered up all of his belongings. "But get the hell out of my house! Now!" Stepping aside so that Robert could more easily pass by him, Warrick stood with his hands on his hips.

Robert glanced at Tina once more, before hesitantly rushing by Warrick—as if afraid that the other man would punch him at any moment—and flying down the stairs. Moments later, Warrick heard the front door slam shut, followed by a car door slamming, and an engine from somewhere down the street roaring into action.

"Warrick—"

"How could you, Tina?" Warrick quietly prompted his wife, the hurt and anger still evident in his eyes. "I came home to surprise you, and I got the surprise of a lifetime! How could you?" he repeated his question.

"We didn't plan for this to happen, Warrick," she calmly informed him, wrapping her bathrobe even more tightly around herself. "It just did! I _work_ with him, for God's sake! I see him all of the time. And it just happened!"

Warrick sadly shook his head from side to side, turning around in order to walk out of the room. "I still can't believe it," he mumbled under his breath. _How could this have happened? What did I do wrong?_

"Don't you even _dare _start playing the role of the victim!" Tina suddenly screamed at Warrick. "Because this is all your fault, anyhow!"

"…What?" Warrick stopped dread in his tracks. "How is this all my fault?" he asked, turning around to stare at her. "I don't seem to recall inviting your ex-husband over here, helping him undress, and then forcing the two of you to do whatever it is that you were doing on our bed," he angrily told her, the hurt and frustration once again starting to show in his voice.

"This wouldn't have happened had you loved me!" Tina blurted out.

"I… huh?" Warrick swallowed, furrowing his eyebrows. "What do you mean, Tina? I asked you to marry me, didn't I?" he pointed out. "I believe I said my 'I-do's' with you, rather than someone else!"

"But you don't love me," she repeated, cautiously moving toward the bed. "You only married me because of Nick!"

"That's not true, and you know it!" Warrick spat back, the anger seeping into his voice. "That doesn't even make sense!"

"Oh? When did you propose to me?" she lowered her voice into a whisper, waiting for him to answer her question.

Warrick looked confused. _Why should that even matter?_

When Warrick didn't reply to her, however, Tina answered her own question. "Two days after he was found."

"That doesn't mean that I don't love you, Tina!"

"True," she shook her head. "But it means that his death made you realize what you were missing in your life."

"Yeah, you!" Warrick tried again. "My life was missing _you_!"

"No, Rick. Your life was missing a _family_. And you thought that I could fill that empty void for you. You don't love me," she informed him, once again quiet and calm. "You definitely love _someone_, but it isn't me."

"This is ridiculous!" Warrick shouted, his voice rising in anger. "Of _course_ I love you!"

"I'm doing you a favor, Warrick," Tina continued, sitting down on the bed. "I'm sorry that you had to find out this way, but I'm doing you a favor."

"What are you _talking _about? What favor?"

"I'm leaving you, and Robert and I are going to get re-married. I love Robert, and he loves me. And you love someone else."

Warrick's jaw dropped open, as he stood with his hands on his hips. _This isn't happening. I know that this isn't happening. _"You're getting back together with him?" he asked, missing the part of her statement about him being in love with someone else.

"Isn't it obvious?" Tina shot back. "I love him, Warrick! I love him more than I ever loved you. I'll give you time to pack your bags, but then I want you out of here."

Warrick ran a shaky hand through his hair, before turning around in stunned silence, and walking out of the door.

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**The Sun City Diner**

Sara listened to Warrick's story without interrupting him once. When he was done, she waited a moment, before gazing up at him. "You said that Tina accused you of not loving her, and that in hindsight, she could be right," she referred him back to his earlier statement.

Warrick nodded, grabbing his glass of coke, and taking a quick swig from it. "Yeah. She might be."

"What makes you think that?" Sara softly asked.

Warrick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because before I proposed to her, I did a lot of thinking… a lot of thinking about Nicky. I was so desperate for a family, Sara. I was so desperate to find happiness, before something happens to end my life," he swallowed. "And I was in a relationship with Tina at the time, so… it just made sense to me to propose to her. But—" he trailed off.

"But what?" Sara quietly prompted him.

"Tina was right about one other thing, too."

"Oh?"

Warrick cleared his throat, loosely resting his hands on the table in front of himself. "When I proposed to her, I think I was really in love with someone else."

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	4. All Around Stupidity

**A/N: **Thank you goes out to **Emma Jay Bentley**,** nameless and forgotten**,** kelly** (you'll see!), **clarkson04**,** sye04, Cherrydrops12**,and **Shelbers**. I appreciate your comments, and I am glad that you are enjoying this fic!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_All Around Stupidity _

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**The Sun City Diner**

"Can I get y'all something else to drink?" Jennifer asked, walking back over to their table, her pencil now tucked securely behind one ear.

"No, thank you," Sara quietly replied, her eyes still riveted to Warrick's face. "What are you saying?" she whispered to him, before their waitress even had the chance to leave the table. "I mean… you're talking about Catherine, right? You loved Catherine, when you proposed to Tina?" _He can't possibly mean me, I don't think. Although… why would he be telling me any of this, if his words didn't relate to me?_

Warrick nervously cleared his throat, drumming his fingers on the table in slight embarrassment. "Well actually, I was referring to—"

"Hey! What are _you_ guys doing here?" Greg's voice loudly came from across the room, as he quickly covered the distance between his own table and theirs.

_You_, _Sara,_ Warrick finished his thought. "Hey, Greggo," he said aloud.

"Are you having lunch without me?" Greg continued, trying to sit down beside Sara, and forcing her to slide further into the booth.

Sara opened her mouth to reply to Greg, before immediately shutting it, and staring at the wall next to her. _Good timing as always, Greg,_ she frowned.

"What's going on?" Greg raised an eyebrow, glancing first at Sara's dubious expression, and then at Warrick's anxious one. "Am I interrupting something? Is this a date?"

"What? No, of course it isn't a date, Greggo," Warrick immediately told him. "No, not at all; Sara and I just ran into each other at the movie theater, and we decided to grab some food. What are you doing here, though?"

"I'm out on a date with the lovely Lucy, from Days," Greg grinned, placing both of his hands on the table in front of himself. "So if you two will excuse me, I have a beautiful woman to go entertain!"

Warrick chuckled, nodding, as Greg stood up to leave. "Well good luck, man."

"I don't need any luck," Greg shot back, bounding out of the booth in youthful exuberance. Glancing over his shoulder once more at Warrick and Sara, however, he bit his lip, holding back a smirk. _If that isn't a date, then I don't know what is!_

Once Greg was out of earshot, Sara let out the breath that she had been holding, raising her gaze to meet Warrick's. "So, what were you saying?" she hesitantly whispered, her voice barely audible over the clanging coming from the diner's kitchen. _Who were you in love with? _she really wanted to ask him.

"I, uh, damn," Warrick swore under his breath. "I wasn't saying anything, Sara," he mumbled.

"Yes you were," she cautiously reminded him. "You were telling me about how you loved someone else, when you got married to Tina. Were you talking about… me?" she swallowed. _If it isn't Catherine, then it has to be me… right?_

"You? Hell, no," Warrick anxiously chuckled, running a nervous hand through his hair. _Damn, she's good. And she's on to me._

"Oh," Sara frowned, staring down at the rest of her grilled cheese sandwich, her soggy French fries, and her cold tomato soup, no longer hungry. Turning a deep shade of red, Sara embarrassingly muttered, "I'm sorry, then. I just—" _This is unbelievably awkward. Nice going, Sara! What would make you think that Warrick could ever be interested in you? I mean, what do you have to offer him? And now that you've ruined a perfectly good meal, go find a way to get the hell out of here._

Warrick squinted, peering across the table at her. "Are you okay? You look a little bit unhappy right now." _Actually, you look down right disappointed. What would you have said to me, had I told you that I was in love with you? Would you have immediately shot me down? Because damn, girl, you're way too good for me._

Sara slowly bobbed her head up and down, plastering a fake smile on her face. "Of course I'm okay," she told him, pushing her half-eaten lunch away from herself. "But I think I need to leave."

"Wait a minute, why?" Warrick quietly asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

Sara carefully slid out of the booth, quickly getting to her feet. "I just," she swallowed. "I forgot about a music lesson that I have," she lied, no longer meeting his gaze. "So I should probably leave right now, in order to make my appointment on time."

Warrick furrowed his eyebrows, studying Sara's expression. "You don't really have a music lesson, do you?" he quizzically asked her. _You're running away from something; from me? Damn, Warrick. Just tell her the truth! Tell her that you love her! What the hell is wrong with you?_

"Yes, I do," Sara nodded her head yes, trying to assure him of the fact that she wasn't willingly leaving the diner. Still refusing to meet his gaze, and her face bright red, she pulled a crumpled ten dollar bill out of her pocket in order to pay for both of their meals, setting it down on the table in front of him. "Thanks for having lunch with me, though, and I'll, uh, talk to you later," she added, hurrying out of the diner without another glance at him.

"Sara?" Greg called out, seeing her rush past him. But Sara didn't stop to talk to him, either.

"Damn," Warrick muttered under his breath. "Way to ruin everything, Warrick. Way to ruin everything."

Moments later, the waitress returned to the table, flashing him a flirtatious smile. "I don't normally do this, Sir, but I couldn't help but notice that you weren't wearing a wedding band. Here's my number. Call me, and I'll show you a good time!" she grinned, thrusting a little slip of paper into his hand, before sauntering off. Warrick just glanced at the paper, immediately balling it up, and dropping it into his half-filled water glass. "You've really done it this time," he informed himself. "And ain't that a bitch?"

---------------

**The Sidle Residence, earlier that week**

Lindsey Conte was dead, her killer was still roaming the streets, and in Sara's mind, she herself was the sole reason that the case was still unsolved.

Last week, Lindsey Conte was found bludgeoned to death outside of her home, in Henderson, Nevada. Killed during a particularly busy shift, Grissom made a supervisory decision, and asked Sara to go solo on the case. At first, Sara was ecstatic about the prospect of working alone; she rarely had the opportunity to do so, and it meant a lot to her that Grissom trusted her enough to allow her to work a scene by herself.

But before long, her enthusiasm quickly turned to frustration, as she realized that the case was much more difficult than she originally thought it would be.

Arriving at the Conte home, Sara swallowed, trying to take in everything; overwhelmed by the sheer volume of evidence that she would be forced to collect, she immediately got to work, taking swab after swab of blood, semen, saliva, and other substances found throughout the home. But no matter how much evidence Sara continued to collect, she couldn't help but think that she was still missing something important.

And she was. Regardless of how much evidence Sara collected over the course of the next two days, everything kept pointing right back toward the victim, rather than toward a suspect. Despite the amount of trace present in the Conte home, Sara was unable to find anything to help Brass collar a perp. Yet.

So in Sara's mind, she missed something key; her inability to solve the murder in the short time span of a couple of days proved her incompetence, and her incompetence contributed to allowing a killer to run free through the streets of Las Vegas, even though she knew that she was far from giving up.

After Grissom forced Sara to go home for the night in order to get some rest, she stopped at a corner liquor store, purchasing herself a six-pack of beer. Returning to her apartment, she set the cans down on the kitchen table, staring at them, through half-closed, and extremely tired eyes. "It's been awhile," she commented to herself, licking her lips at the site of the condensation sliding down the outside of the cans. "It's been a _long_ while, actually. But this time, I really need a drink; I need to feel numb, so that I don't think about this case."

Frowning, Sara leaned back in her chair, gingerly pulling one of the cans out of the pack, and holding it in between her hands. "What a day," she sighed to herself, pulling back the tab to open the drink, and setting the can itself back down on the table, without even bothering to take a swig from it. "In fact, what a week this has been. If I had been able to find that extra piece of evidence at the Conte household by now, her killer would already be behind bars, rather than on the street somewhere. So just in case there is any doubt in your mind, Sara Sidle," she continued to berate herself. "This is all your fault; Lindsey Conte died, and you are single-handedly allowing her killer to walk free. Congratulations, and job well done."

Standing up, and slowly moving toward the kitchen counter, Sara dejectedly flicked on the radio, screwing her eyes tightly shut, while trying to massage her neck. "Grissom never should have let you process the scene alone, anyhow. He should have realized that you just aren't as smart as Nick or Warrick; hell, even Greg is surpassing you in the intellectual arena," she informed herself. "And Catherine is in a league all of her own; I bet you she could have solved this case days ago, unlike yourself. But no, Grissom assigned you, of all people, to solve this thing," she bitterly chuckled. "And you're missing something critical; I know you are. Excellent job, Sara, and again, congratulations."

With a heavy sigh, Sara meandered back to the table, grabbing the five unopened cans of beer in one hand, and the opened can in her other. Gingerly carrying all six containers into the living room, she threw herself down on the couch, resting her feet on one of the pillows, and setting the beer down on the coffee table beside her. "Maybe you shouldn't be a criminalist after all," she shrugged, once again picking up the opened can, although still not taking a sip from it. "Because you sure as hell obviously can't do your job."

All of a sudden, the opening strain of "Hotel California," by the Eagles, wafted into the room from the radio located in the kitchen, calming Sara's frayed nerves. "What are you doing to yourself?" she frowned, setting the untouched beer back down on the coffee table, and reaching for the phone. "You need to call someone, before you do something stupid, and even more self destructive." Taking a deep breath, Sara dialed Warrick's number, hoping that he would have a couple of minutes to talk to her. _He's a good friend, and friends are hard to come by, _she thought to herself, waiting for someone—anyone—to answer the phone.

Moments later, a woman's voice filled her ear. "Hello?"

"Hi, Tina?" Sara cautiously asked. "This is Sara Sidle; I work with Warrick. Is he home, by any chance?"

"…No," Tina hesitantly replied. "He's… away right now."

"Oh, okay," Sara frowned. "Please let him know that I called," she added, before hanging up. Sighing at the phone, Sara then called the only other person who could help her get through the night, without drinking: Jim Brass.

---------------

**The Sun City Diner**

_So, _Warrick mused to himself, once again ignoring the rest of the diner's patrons. _You should probably go after her, right? She only ran away from you because you announced to Greg that you were not on a date with her, and then chuckled at her, telling her that you were not in love with her… even though you really are. You have to find a way to make this right, Warrick. Go_, he ordered himself, before quickly sliding out of the booth, pocketing Sara's ten dollar bill in order to give it back to her later, and then jogging up to the cash register to pay for the meal. "See you later, Greggo," he called over his shoulder to his colleague, rushing out of the door in the hopes of catching Sara before she had the chance to leave the parking lot.

---------------

**Sara's car, in the diner's parking lot**

_Idiot; you are an absolute idiot, and you made such a fool of yourself_, Sara yelled at herself, as hot, angry tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. "Gos damn it," she muttered under her breath in hurt frustration, peeling out of the diner's parking lot. Lost in her own world, Sara did not even notice Warrick running out of the diner, waving his arms at her to try to get her to stop, and screaming her name.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	5. Tears

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay, but I went out of town for a couple of days! Thanks for the comments goes out to: **catnip**, **Shelbers **(I thought about making another grueling cliffhanger, but I was nice!), **Beauty in my Breakdown**, **Bizy **(embarrassed, maybe? I'm not sure! You'd have to ask Warrick… but you'll find out the answer to your question in a chapter or two!), **Megara**, **Sara Duquesne**, **clarkson**, and **MissyJane**. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review this fic. I appreciate it, and I hope you like this next chapter!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_Tears_

---------------

**The Sun City Diner Parking Lot**

Tightly grasping the steering wheel in both hands, and her gaze unwavering from the road, Sara sped past Warrick, her brain never registering the fact that she had almost hit him. _I can't believe that you said anything to him. Damn it, Sara. You should have just kept your mouth shut! What's wrong with you? Damn it, damn it, damn it. I need a drink! First the case, and now this; I know that we're not talking about life or death here, but damn it. God damn it! _She continued to scream at herself, as she made a right out of the parking lot, heading back toward her own home, and toward five waiting cans of beer.

Back at the diner, Warrick growled in frustration, running an angry hand through his hair. "Damn, I shouldn't have let you leave," he muttered under his breath, following her speeding car with his eyes. "Where are you going, Sara?" he quietly asked. "Where are you running to? Are you going home?"

---------------

**The Sidle Residence, earlier that week**

"Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up," Sara quietly chanted to herself, as she leaned her head against the back of the couch. "Really, please pick—"

"Brass," her friend's gruff voice immediately announced.

Sara's voice hitched in her throat, as her words suddenly failed her.

"Hello?" Brass repeated, a hint of annoyance seeping into his voice. "If this is a sales call, I'm not interested," he muttered, preparing to hang up. _You _d_amn sales people never give it a rest._

"Jim?" Sara hesitantly spoke up, blinking back several tears.

"… Sara?" he asked, the annoyance instantly turning into fatherly concern.

"Hi," she whispered, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, and trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over; but for some reason, the sound of Brass's voice was causing all of her body's defenses to begin to crumble.

"Sara, what's wrong? Where are you?" Brass kindly asked, taking note of the tone of her voice; something was certainly wrong.

"I… I'm home, and nothing is wrong. I'm staring at six cans of beer, but everything is okay," she unconvincingly told him, sniffling. "But what are you doing right now?"

"What am I doing right now?" he repeated her question.

"Yes," Sara trailed off, swallowing.

"Right now, I'm on my way over to your place. I'll be there in ten," he informed her, hanging up the phone.

Setting the phone back down on the coffee table, Sara tucked her legs underneath her body, staring at the beer. "You look so inviting," she mumbled to the cans. "And I really want to take a sip; one sip can't be that bad for me, right?" she asked, reaching toward the open can, but freezing. "What are you doing, Sara? You can't drink it... you know better than that."

Just as Sara was about to restart the battle over the beer with herself, she heard firm knocking on her front door. Hesitantly uncurling her legs, she groaned, slowly walking out of the living room and toward the door. Peering through the peep hole, she sighed, flinging the door wide open for Brass. "You didn't have to come, you know," she uneasily told him by way of greeting.

"No, I didn't," he agreed with her, stepping past her, and taking a cursory glance around the front hallway.

"I'm fine, you know," she added, her lower lip starting to quiver.

Brass sighed, not entirely sure what to say. Somehow, over the past six years, Sara had become something like a daughter to him. He loved her like he loved Ellie, and he wanted to do whatever was in his power to make her feel better. "Are you?" he finally asked. "Are you really?"

Sara started to shake her head yes, before changing her mind, and slowly shaking her head no. "I don't think so," she whispered, turning around, and heading back toward the couch in the living room. Pointing to the table, she once again sniffled, trying to hold back her tears. "I want to drink, Jim."

"I can tell," Brass dryly replied, following her into the living room, and staring down at the table. Taking a seat in the armchair across from the couch, he clasped his hands in between his legs, and carefully studied Sara's face. "So what's going on?" he quietly asked her.

Gently lowering herself back onto the couch, Sara once again tucked her legs underneath her body, her gaze directed at the floor. "I don't know," she mumbled, shrugging her shoulders.

Brass scratched his head, trying to figure out how to best respond to Sara; he realized that the wrong words would immediately shut her down, making it more difficult to help her. "Well, I'm glad that you called me, Sara," he cautiously started to say. "Although I can't do much to help you, until I know what's going on."

"I know," Sara whispered, as a single tear started to slide down her cheek. "I know you can't; and I don't know what I'm expecting you to do, either."

"Do you want me to pour the beer down the sink?" Brass asked, putting his hands on his knees in order to push himself up and out of the chair.

Sara quickly shook her head no, trying to smile at Brass. _I might still need those later_, she thought to herself.

"Then do you want me just to listen?" he tried again. _Because I'm a cop, Sara; if you are looking for someone to listen to you, I can try my best, but I may not be the best person for this particular job. I'm more of a fixer; I like to actively fix problems, rather than just listen to them. _Studying Sara's face, Brass tried not to frown.

Still looking at the ground, Sara slowly nodded yes, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. "It's the Conte case," she finally admitted, as she looked up just in time to see him looking at her. "I just feel so overwhelmed. I can't help her, and it's making me feel so powerless," she concluded, as another tear, followed by a third one, and then a fourth one, finally fell down her cheeks. "I don't know what I'm missing, Jim, and it's tearing me up inside!'

Brass sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Sara, have you talked to Gil about your concerns? He's your supervisor; he might actually be able to help you with this, you know."

Sara vehemently shook her head no, as more hot, stinging tears slid down her cheeks "It's not a problem with my work, Jim; it's a problem with me. _I'M _the problem."

Brass raised an eyebrow, trying to process her statement. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me."

"I don't know what I'm trying to tell me, either," she mumbled, picking the open can up off of the coffee table, and staring at it. "One tiny sip can't be that bad, though, right?" she hesitantly asked Brass, glancing over at him as if searching for permission to go ahead and drink her worries away.

"Sara," Brass cleared his throat. "I'm not going to tell you that it's okay to drink; in fact, I'm not going to tell you to dump the stuff, either. But I want you to think about this: will you _really _feel better about yourself, once the alcohol is gone?"

_Yes. Yes, I will_, she wanted to tell him; but that wasn't the truth. "No," she finally conceded, setting the can back down. "No, I won't," she mumbled, as she sniffled, her tears slowing down. "But I don't know what to do about the Conte case."

"Why don't you have someone with a fresh pair of eyes take a look at the scene? Nick, or Catherine, maybe? Sometimes we miss things in plain sight," he reminded her.

"What are you trying to say?" Sara whispered, as she started to tremble again. "Are you telling me that I'm so bad at my job, that I am missing the most obvious pieces of evidence?"

Brass again raised an eyebrow, completely confused. _What's really going on here? _"No, Sara, I'm not saying that," he tried to calmly convince her. "But I've lost my keys before, only to find them sitting on the table right in front of me. If this case is stressing you out, ask someone to help you; asking for help does not make you a failure," he pointed out.

Sara hiccupped, wiping the remainder of her tears away with the very tips of her fingers. "Who said that?" she quietly asked.

"I did, just now," Brass flashed her a small smile. "So call someone; call any of the CSIs that you work with."

Sara slowly nodded, as a slight yawn escaped her lips.

"And get some rest. How long have you been up now, anyhow?"

"I pulled a triple," Sara mumbled. "That's why Grissom finally sent me home."

Brass nodded, starting to stand up. "Maybe once you get some sleep, more ideas will come to you," he added. "Maybe you're just too tired to think straight right now."

Sara rubbed the back of her neck, yawning again. "Perhaps you're right," she quietly said, slowly getting to her feet.

"No, don't get up," Brass told Sara, watching her as she laid back down on the couch, curling into a tiny ball.

"I'm so tired," Sara admitted. _And lonely._

"I can see that," Brass quietly replied, as he reached behind the couch for a small blanket, gently draping it over Sara's prone body. "So get some sleep."

Sara again nodded, as three days worth of sleepless nights finally caught up with her.

"Please don't leave me," Sara mumbled.

"What?" Brass asked, stopping long enough to stare down at Sara in confusion.

"Please don't leave me," she repeated, starting to drift off to sleep. "Friend… alcohol," she managed to get out, before she finally fell asleep.

Brass slowly nodded, grabbing the beer off of the coffee table, and returning the cans to the kitchen. _I'd throw them out for you, Sara, but it isn't my place to do so. And I'm glad that you consider me a friend, although only you can stop yourself from drinking; I'll just try to continue to be there for you,_ he thought to himself, as he reluctantly returned to the living room, once again sitting down in the armchair across from her. _Just take care of yourself, kid. I don't want anything to happen to you; I don't want anything to happen to you, or to Ellie, for that matter._

---------------

**The Sun City Diner Parking Lot**

Glancing down the road once more, Warrick ran his fingers through his hair, before making the decision to go after Sara. _I don't really have a choice, do I?_ he asked himself, before quickly moving toward his car, and glancing up at the sky for a brief moment. _You've made a real mess of this one, Warrick. You need to go fix it, and you need to go fix it, now. _Climbing into his Denali, Warrick pulled out his cell phone, and hit Sara's speed dial number—number one. "Pick up your phone, Sara," he mumbled, growling in frustration when he was immediately sent to voicemail. "Sara, it's me. Call me when you get this message," he stated, before hanging up. Next, Warrick tried the lab's main number.

"Las Vegas Crime Lab," the receptionist greeted him, picking up on the fourth ring.

"Susan, hi," he tried to smile. _Four rings? I'm in a bit of a rush here! _"This is CSI Warrick Brown. Has CSI Sara Sidle walked past you, yet?" he calmly asked her.

"No, Warrick. I haven't seen her all day!" she cheerfully replied.

Warrick sighed. "Okay, well if you see her, please tell her that I'm looking for her," he muttered, before hanging up. With one final "damn," he peeled out of the parking lot, heading toward Sara's home. "That's the only other place that you'll run to," he said, trying to assure himself of that fact. "So that is where you have to be. I know it."

---------------

**The Sidle Residence**

The moment that Sara returned home, she tossed her keys on the small table by the door, and quickly walked into the kitchen. Although what occurred at the diner would be fairly minor for most people, Sara had put herself out there, and had felt mortified by what had happened; in her mind, she was not only rejected by Warrick, but her friend, Greg, also knew about it. And if Greg knew, that meant that Lucy knew, which meant that Sandra in accounting would soon know, followed by Cheryl in Personnel, followed by everyone else in the entire lab. By tomorrow morning, everyone would know that Sara Sidle had been rejected by Warrick Brown, and that, coupled with her already perceived failures as a criminalist, was enough to make an already emotional individual feel even more emotional and upset.

"Where are you?" she mumbled to the beer, rummaging around in the refrigerator for the five still unopened cans of the cool liquid. "I should have thrown you out when I had the chance, because now I'm going to drink every single one of you. And more, if I have to," she continued to rant at the beer. "I'm going to be numb by the end of the night, so help me God!"

Roughly pulling one of the cans out, Sara slammed the refrigerator door shut, pulled the tab on the can, and set the slightly fizzing beverage down on the kitchen countertop. Staring out of the window for a brief moment, she sighed, before rubbing the back of her neck, and slowly heading down the hallway to her bedroom.

Glancing at her closet, Sara quietly took out a pair of sweat pants and an old t-shirt, slipping out of her work clothes. "I don't understand," she mumbled to herself, donning the new pair of pants. "You didn't want to drink this morning, so what changed?" she asked herself, bending down to pick up the t-shirt. "Rejection. That's what happened," she sniffled, pulling the shirt over her head and shoulders, and dejectedly standing in the middle of her bedroom. _No one wants you. Not Hank, not Grissom, not Warrick, not your father. No one wants you, because you're such a_—" she was unable to finish the thought, as a fresh wave of tears started to wrack her body.

Taking a deep breath, Sara allowed her body to shake, as she stumbled toward the living room, her vision blurring from the tears. _What the hell is wrong with me? _she once again asked herself, throwing herself down onto the couch. _Seriously, why the hell am I so depressed? This is insane. Wait a minute_, her face froze as a new possibility hit her. _What if I AM insane, just like HER? What if that's what is wrong with me? _She started to cry even harder, wishing that she had had the foresight to bring the beer into the living room with her, before she laid down on the couch. _I want to be numb_, she licked her lips. _I want to be numb, and I don't want to feel a thing._

Resting her head against the armrest of the couch, Sara took another deep breath, trying to steady her extremely frayed nerves. Moments later, however, her eyes snapped open, when she heard knocking at her front door. Puzzled, Sara wiped the remainder of the tears from her face, stood up, ran a hand through her disheveled hair, and slowly shuffled toward the door. Glancing through the peep hole, Sara once again froze, when she saw who was standing there.

"C'mon, Sara," Warrick knocked a bit louder. "I know you're in there. Please, just open up the door!" he said, the worry very evident in his voice. "Please, we need to talk!" With one of his fists still poised over the door to knock again, Warrick took a step backwards, when he heard the lock turn, and someone start to rattle the doorknob.

Sara anxiously fiddled with the doorknob once more, trying to determine whether or not she really wanted to let Warrick inside of her apartment. It was obvious that she had been crying, and the beer can was still sitting out on the kitchen table. She looked like a mess, and she wasn't positive if she wanted Warrick to see her in such a state. But at the same time, Sara was well-aware that Warrick would not leave her alone, and that he would not walk away, until he had had a chance to speak with her. So trying to muster up a smile for him, she slowly pulled the door wide open, stepping aside so that he could pass by her.

When the door was open enough for Warrick to slip into the apartment, he hesitantly did so, his eyes widening, when he took in Sara's appearance. "Damn, girl," he whispered, immediately noticing her tear-stained face. "What's going on?" he quietly asked. _Because I know that this can't all be because of me… can it?_

Anxiously shifting from foot to foot, Warrick's question was all that it took for a new wave of tears to hit Sara. Her body starting to tremble, she stared at the ground, unable to answer his question through her sobs.

"Damn," Warrick whispered again, as he immediately stepped further into Sara's apartment, shutting the door behind himself. Holding his arms open to her, he waited to see what she would do.

With only a moment of hesitation, Sara quietly walked into his arms, sobbing into his chest.

_I don't know what's really wrong, girl, but it's okay_, Warrick wanted to tell her, wrapping his arms tightly around her. _It's okay; I'm here now._

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	6. The Calvary

**A/N: **I really appreciate all of the support and encouragement that everyone has been giving me throughout the writing of this fic, and it makes me very happy to know that people are reading and enjoying it. **Shelbers**, to answer your question, Sara actually tried calling Warrick first, at the end of chapter 4. Tina told her that Warrick was out, and that she didn't know when he'd be back; good thing he was gone, though, because with Brass's history of alcoholism, I think he was a much better confidant than Warrick ever could have been at that particular moment in time. And one more thing, before I get to the chapter: A very special thank-you goes out to **Ann**, for putting up with my writing insecurities. You're a great friend (my best friend, even!).

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_The Calvary_

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**The Sidle Residence**

The moment that Sara felt the warmth from Warrick's arms encircling her shaking body, she began to cry even harder, burying her face against his chest.

"Shh, Sara, it's okay," Warrick whispered, not entirely sure what to say, or what to do, but wanting to do something, anything, in order to make her tears go away. "I'm here," he repeated over and over again, hoping that the soft tone of his voice would be enough to calm her obviously very frayed nerves.

_It's not okay_, Sara thought to herself, as she grabbed the loose ends of his shirt, tightly squeezing them between her two fists. _It's not okay; I'm having problems with my case, I'm embarrassed about you, and I just want to drink_, she tightly shut her eyes and swallowed, as the tears continued to flow down her cheeks, wetting the upper part of Warrick's shirt.

"It's okay, girl," Warrick quietly told her, as he continued to hold her in his arms, his hand hesitantly rubbing her back. Blinking, he wrapped his arms more tightly around her shoulders, staring at the ceiling. _What's going on? Why are you so upset?_

"Warrick," Sara sobbed, her face crimson and blotchy from the tears. "I don't feel so well. Nothing's okay; it's not going to _be _okay," she continued, trying to burrow into his arms.

"I can tell that you don't feel well," Warrick cautiously replied, pulling away from her for a brief moment in order to better study her face. "But can you take some deep breaths for me?" He asked, as he gently brushed her hair out of her eyes.

Sara simply nodded yes, as she blinked, and tried to take some deep breaths for Warrick. "I just don't feel well," she mumbled, as she hiccupped, and felt some of her tension starting to ease away.

Warrick continued to silently hold Sara in his arms, taking note of the fact that her shaking had stopped, and that she seemed to be calming down a little bit. Gently rubbing her back, he tried to come up with some sort of intelligent response to her comment, but words failed him; Warrick was stuck on the fact that he was in Sara's apartment, trying to hold her through one of her more serious panic attacks.

"What's wrong with me?" Sara whispered, as her tears subsided even more. "I don't know what's wrong with me." Resting her head against Warrick's chest, Sara sighed, closing her eyes. _I don't know what's wrong with me, but you'll help me figure it out, right? You're already helping_, she thought to herself. _I feel very safe and secure right now._

Pulling away from Sara, Warrick held her head in his hands, gently brushing away the remainder of her tears with both of his thumbs. "What's going on?" he quietly asked, his eyes peering into hers, as if looking for an answer in the depths of her soul.

"I don't know," Sara slowly shook her head from side to side, finally walking out of Warrick's embrace, and quietly heading into her living room. Sitting down on one end of the couch, she tucked her legs underneath her body, and stared at the ground.

"… Are you sure that you don't know?" Warrick cautiously probed, following her into the living room, and taking a seat on the armchair facing the couch.

Sara swallowed, staring into the kitchen, her gaze falling upon the open can of beer. "I'm sure," she told him, as another tear slipped out of her eye, followed by another one, and another one, and still another one. "I'm sure," she sniffled.

Warrick took a deep breath, slowly getting to his feet, and moving over toward the couch to sit down beside Sara. "Hey, girl; you can talk to me about anything; you know that, right?" he asked, lowering his head and squinting up at her, in order to better catch her gaze.

"I know that," Sara whispered, swallowing, as she moved closer to him. "But I don't know what to say; or even how to say it."

Warrick blinked in understanding, before reaching his arms out to Sara, and once again pulling her toward him. "Just tell me what's on your mind, whatever it is."

Sara slowly nodded, resting her head on Warrick's shoulder, and licking her lips. "I want some beer."

"What?" Warrick squinted down at her in confusion. "You… want some beer?" he questioned her, as he wrapped his arms more tightly around her shoulders. _Will beer help you talk? I mean, that isn't the problem, right?_

Sara nodded, resting one of her hands on his knee.

"Okay, well, do you have some beer in your apartment?"

Sara again nodded, burrowing herself further into his arms, rather than getting up to get the cans.

"Do you… want me to get you some?" Warrick prodded her, now more confused than ever.

"No," Sara whispered. "I don't want any."

"But you just said—"

"I'm an alcoholic," Sara interrupted him. "I want some beer, and yet I don't want some beer."

Warrick's eyebrows shot up, as he glanced down at the top of Sara's head. "You have a drinking problem, Sara? How come you never told me?" He softly asked.

"How come you never told me that you were getting married, before you actually got married?" Sara shot back, starting to tremble again, as more tears threatened to spill over. _That was kind of rude. Now he's just going to walk away from you, and leave you alone!_

Warrick took a deep breath. _That is actually a very good point_. "Okay," he cleared his throat, avoiding her question. "So, I'm guessing that there is something," _or someone,_ he thought to himself. "That is causing you to want to drink. Want to talk about it?" he quietly asked, gently rubbing Sara's arm with his thumb.

Sara slowly shook her head yes, taking a deep breath, and closing her eyes. "But I don't know where to start."

"Well," Warrick shrugged. "Is it work related? Or… personal?" he hesitated, his fingers freezing on her arm while he waited for her answer.

"… Both," Sara admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just—" she swallowed.

"You just what?" Warrick carefully prompted her to continue.

"Nothing in my life is going right, Warrick," Sara mumbled, tears once again sliding down her cheeks. "I can't solve my case, I want to drink, and you don't like me!" she finally blurted out.

Warrick's eyebrows immediately shot up, as he pulled Sara into his lap, in essence, forcing her to look at him. "Sara, I don't hate you," he quietly informed her.

"I know," Sara mumbled, trying to pull away from him. "But you don't like me in _that _way."

"What makes you think that?" Warrick asked, tightening his grasp on Sara's body, so that she couldn't move away from him.

"You said so, at the diner," she reminded him, no longer struggling to get away from him; it was evident to her that he was not going to let her run away from him this time.

"Sara," Warrick swallowed. "Greg caught me off guard; I was embarrassed, okay?"

"But after Greg was gone," Sara persisted. "I asked you if I was the person whom you loved, and you said, and I quote, 'You? Hell, no.' And then you chuckled at me," she sniffled, once again trying to pull out of his grasp, her face growing warm in embarrassment..

"Sara, I—" Warrick hesitated, not sure what to say in order to fix the mistake that he had made an hour or so before. Releasing his grip on her body, and frowning as she chose to move a short distance away from him, he sighed. "That might be what I said, but do you know what I was actually thinking, at the time?" he queried, his eyes searching out hers.

"No, what?" she cautiously asked, wiping a couple of tears away, and blinking, as her gaze met his.

"Do you remember asking me if it was Catherine whom I loved, and I said no?"

"Uh-huh," Sara anxiously replied, nodding her head yes.

"And then the next thing that I said was, 'well actually, I was referring to—' and then Greg came over?"

Again, Sara slowly nodded her head yes.

"Well, I was going to fill in the blank with 'you,'" he nervously admitted, his palms starting to sweat with his growing uneasiness.

"You… were?"

"Yeah, I was. But Greg caught me off guard with his question about being out on a date, and I just… got flustered."

"You… did?" Sara raised a dubious eyebrow.

"I did," Warrick confirmed. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone from work at the diner, Sara, so I took you there, because I wanted to get the chance to talk to you, alone, without them interfering."

"And Greg interfered anyhow, didn't he?" Sara mused. "Typical Greg," she tried to crack a small smile.

"Yeah, typical Greg," Warrick echoed with a half-grin, cautiously reaching his arms out toward her again. "I honestly did not mean to hurt your feelings, though; I was just uncomfortable with trying to share something so personal with you, and having Greg interrupt me mid-sentence. I'm sorry, girl. I should have been more careful about your feelings."

"It's okay," Sara told him, slowly moving back into his arms. "And I didn't mean to run out on you like that; I just felt mortified. I've put myself on the line so many times before, and I'm used to being rejected; I've just never been rejected in front of another co-worker before," she admitted, resting her head against Warrick's chest. _Although I've been rejected BY another co-worker before; that's a topic for another day, though._

"I can understand that; I should have done something more to stop you from leaving; or to assure you that I had been talking about you, rather than someone else."

"You couldn't have done anything differently," Sara informed him, her eyes closed. "It was my fault; I'm just… too emotional."

"Well, I like you being emotional," Warrick smiled, gently running his fingers through her hair. "So aside from the whole diner debacle, what else is going on?"

Sara sighed, thinking about her answer for a moment. "I feel like a failure at work."

"Damn, girl!" Warrick snorted in surprise. "You're one of the smartest people on the team. What could possibly be making you feel like a failure?"

Sara swallowed. "I'm missing something with my case, and I don't know what it is. It should have been an open and shut case, but none of the evidence is adding up. Everything is pointing right back to the victim, and there is so much evidence, that we should have more than enough to convict someone of this crime; and yet, we have nothing."

"Do you want to talk it over with me? Maybe see if I can shed some light on it?" Warrick asked, continuing to run his fingers through her hair.

Sara nodded, glancing up at Warrick, before yawning. "Sorry," she mumbled. "It's been a long week."

"Why don't you get some rest, then?" he suggested, gently rubbing her arm with his other hand. "You could probably use it, too. Knowing you, I'm sure that you've almost maxed out on your monthly overtime; and during this week alone," he added.

"I'm fine," Sara immediately replied. "So do you really want to listen to the case?"

"Yes, I really want to listen to the case," Warrick assured her, leaning back on the couch in order to make himself more comfortable.

"Okay," Sara shrugged, rolling onto her side so that she was facing away from Warrick, and sliding down his body, so that her head was resting comfortably in his lap. "Okay," she repeated. "So, I'm on the Conte case. Lindsey Conte was found murdered outside of her home last week," she droned on, her eyes half-closed.

"She was hit with something, right?" Warrick asked her, one of his arms resting on her hip.

"Yes," Sara confirmed. "Repeatedly. I narrowed the murder weapon down to a hammer, although I have yet to actually find the damned thing. There was blood everywhere, Warrick," she whispered. "On the lawn, on the front door, in the hallways, throughout the home. I collected bloody fingerprints, not to mention numerous swabs, and I've yet to come up with something actually helpful."

Warrick closed his eyes for a moment in thought, trying to picture the scene in his head, just as Sara must have seen it. With his thumb now absentmindedly moving back and forth against her stomach, he tried to process the scene in his mind. "Does she have a husband? Or kids?" he finally asked Sara, once again opening up his eyes.

But Sara remained quiet, her body lightly moving up and down with the steady rhythm of her unlabored breathing.

"Sara?" Warrick tried again, thinking that she must not have heard him. "Does she have a husband? Or children?" he repeated his earlier question, glancing down at her.

But again, Warrick got no response.

Squinting his eyes, Warrick shifted his body ever so slightly, so that he could catch a glimpse of Sara's face. Softly chuckling to himself, he sighed. "You fell asleep, girl," he whispered, looking around for a blanket to cover her up with. Reaching above his head, Warrick carefully pulled down a blanket, gingerly placing it over her prone body. Once again resting his hand on her hip, he glanced down at Sara to ensure that she was comfortable, before trying to slide out from underneath her.

"No," Sara immediately mumbled, grabbing his legs with one of her fists.

"You need to sleep," he whispered to her, carefully trying to untangle himself without waking her up even more.

Sara rolled over onto her back, reaching up for one of Warrick's arms. Grabbing it, and pulling it toward her stomach, she tried to force him to hold onto her more securely.

"Okay," he chuckled. "I get the message, girl, loud and clear. I won't move. And then tomorrow, we'll work on the Conte case; together." _And once the case is solved, you will have one less reason to drink the beer. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself, I guarantee you that._

Sara seemed to relax at his words, falling into an even deeper, and more comfortable, sleep.

---------------

TO BE CONTINUED 


	7. Deal

**A/N: **I hope that this chapter isn't too confusing for you all to read; I realized that I never concluded Brass's stay at Sara's house, and I really wanted to do so (well, I wanted to at least continue it!). As well, once again, thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review the previous chapter. I hope that you enjoy this one, as well!

---------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_Deal_

---------------

**The Sidle Residence, present time**

_I don't understand, girl_, Warrick thought to himself, gazing down at Sara's sleeping form, as he gently rested his arm across her stomach. _When did everything become so difficult for you, and why didn't I notice that you were having problems? Was I so wrapped up in myself, that I wasn't paying enough attention to you? Even if that is the case, you should have known that you could come to me with anything; hell, you should have known that you could come to any of us with anything. We're your family, Sara; your family._

"Uh-huh," Sara mumbled, licking her lips, and trying to pull Warrick's arm even more securely across her body. "Okay," she added. "But I'm cold."

'_Uh-huh?' 'Okay?' I didn't even ask you anything! _"You're cold?" Warrick whispered, raising an eyebrow, before reaching down, and wrapping the blanket more firmly around her body. "How's that?" he quietly asked, although he recognized the fact that she was still sleeping soundly.

Sara just gave a contented sigh, licking her lips again, and burrowing her head further into his lap.

Warrick chuckled, before frowning. _Damn. My legs are starting to cramp. I need to move my feet off of the floor and onto the couch, or else I won't be able to walk tomorrow._ Sitting up, he very carefully tried to move Sara from his lap, sighing, as she simply clung to him even more tightly.

"Mmfg," she mumbled under her breath.

"I'm not leaving, girl," Warrick softly told her, as he gently scooped her up into his arms. "But I have to move," he added, standing up with Sara in his arms, and briefly stretching his legs. Sitting back down on the couch so that he was laying lengthwise along the cushions, he set Sara down in between his legs, laying her on her back, with her head resting on his leg. Covering her up with the blanket, he sighed, closing his eyes.

Without warning, Sara slowly rolled over and crawled up the front of Warrick's body, so that she was practically on top of him, with her head now resting on his chest.

"Comfortable?" Warrick chuckled, waiting for Sara to get situated in his lap. When her light breathing was the only response to his question, he sighed, wrapping his arms more securely around her body, and drifting off to sleep.

---------------

**The Sidle Residence, earlier that week**

_I really shouldn't be here_, Brass kept telling himself over and over again, his eyes on Sara, who was still asleep on the couch. _This isn't right; it isn't proper, even... except for the fact that she's my friend; she's like a daughter to me, and I need to help her remain safe. If that means that I have to spend the night on an extremely uncomfortable, and very lumpy armchair, well, then that is what I'll have to do._

On the couch, Sara rolled over, now facing away from Brass. "Sorry" she mumbled to herself in her sleep. "Really, I'm sorry."

Brass stared at Sara for a moment in confusion, raising an eyebrow. _What could you possibly have to be sorry for?_ He wanted to ask her. _You've done absolutely nothing wrong._

"I tried," she continued to talk in her sleep. "But I wasn't able to do it."

_Weren't able to do what? _Brass wondered, filing the words away in his brain so that he could ask her about them later. _Just sleep, Sara. Rest your mind, and get some sleep._

Almost as if hearing his thoughts, Sara groaned once more, before slipping into an even deeper, and fairly untroubled, sleep.

Early the next morning, Brass quietly got out of the armchair, walking into the kitchen in order to make a pot of coffee. _You're going to need this_, he thought to himself, realizing that he had somehow managed to stay awake for the entire night. _Actually, both of you are going to need this coffee_. Quietly opening several cabinets in the kitchen, Brass grunted in success, when he located two coffee mugs. Pulling them down from the cupboard, and setting them down on the kitchen countertop in front of him, he stared at the coffee in the machine, waiting as it percolated.

"Hi," Sara softly greeted him from the doorway.

"Mornin'," Brass replied, turning around to look at her. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," Sara admitted, taking a seat at the kitchen table, glancing at the coffee maker. "Thanks for coming over, though, Jim; I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Brass gruffly replied, pouring both himself and Sara a cup of coffee. "Here you go," he handed her the steaming mug, sitting down across from her. "I'm worried about you, though, you know that?"

"Well, don't be," Sara immediately replied, looking down at the table in slight embarrassment. "I'm fine."

Brass slowly shook his head no, studying her expression. "No, you aren't, Sara. This case is really getting to you. You need some help with it. In fact, you just need some help, period. I suggest that you talk with Gil about your… situation."

"What is _that _supposed to mean?" Sara's eyes suddenly flashed in anger. "'I need some help, period?' 'My… situation?' _What _situation?"

"Look at yourself," he simply replied.

Sara frowned, once again staring down at the table. "I don't need any help," she mumbled under her breath.

"Yes, you do, Sara. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. I will always be here for you, and so will the rest of the gang, but you need help; professional help. Get some, before it's too late."

Sara sighed, her dejected gaze slowly raising in order to meet Brass's concerned one. "You're right, Jim," she finally conceded. "I'm sorry that I snapped at you, because you're right; I need help… and with more than just this case, too."

---------------

**The Sidle Residence, present time**

For the next four hours, the only sound that could be heard throughout the tiny apartment was the steady breathing coming from the two criminalists, as they each continued to sleep.

Nestled securely and comfortably in Warrick's warm embrace, Sara slept through the entire night, until she eventually groaned, waking up. Yawning, and slowly cracking an eye open, she jumped, as her brain registered the fact that someone else's warm flesh was touching her own skin. "Huh?" she asked, completely disoriented. Turning her head, and noticing Warrick's sleeping form, she raised a nervous eyebrow. "What are you… what are you doing here? And why am I sleeping in your lap?" she whispered, her eyes wide, as she tried to scramble away from him.

"Sara?" Warrick frowned, his eyes immediately popping open. "What's wrong?"

Sara took a deep breath, closing her eyes, as she tried to remember why she and Warrick were sleeping on her couch.

"Sara?" Warrick repeated her name, sitting up, as concern and worry filled his voice. "It's okay, Sara; you asked me to stay for the entire night, so I did... remember?"

"I did...?" Sara cautiously asked him, swallowing.

"Yes, you did," Warrick confirmed, his gaze searching for her own.

Sara's eyes suddenly widened, as little bits and pieces of what occurred the night before started to flood her memory. "Oh, shit, Warrick," she whispered, her face immediately flushing in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry!" she told him, hastily trying to get further away from him on the couch, as more and more of what happened came back to her. "Shit!"

Warrick squinted at Sara in puzzlement, not entirely sure why she was acting so differently from how she was acting last night. _What's going on here? _"Hey, girl, calm down," he soothingly told her, holding his arms up in a defensive posture. "I'm not going to hurt you, so why are you so jumpy?"

Sara bolted off of the couch, her face bright red. "I, uh," she hesitated. "I can't believe that I admitted all of that to you last night. I must have been exhausted," she tried to explain. "I ramble when I'm exhausted."

"Well, then I'm glad that you were tired," Warrick smiled, standing up, and swaggering toward her. "But you're making me nervous. Can you please just calm down?" he asked, tentatively wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

"Right," Sara sighed, burying her head against his chest. "Sure, I can calm down," she mumbled, as she slowly wrapped her own arms around his waist, trying to breathe deeply. "So… you spent the entire night here, just because I asked you to?"

"I wanted to stay, but even if I hadn't wanted to stay, you wouldn't exactly let me leave," Warrick again chuckled, releasing her, and pointing to her fists. "Let's just say that you have a strong grip, girl."

"I'm so sorry," Sara whispered, her face once again turning crimson.

"Like I said, Sara, I really wanted to stay," he smiled at her, as he took a seat at one end of the couch. Reaching up, and lightly pulling on her wrist so that she was forced to follow him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to him. "Now, why don't you tell me about the rest of your case?" he suggested.

Sara slowly nodded, resting her head on Warrick's shoulder.

---------------

**The Conte Residence, one week prior**

The Conte home, set in an unusually quiet neighborhood in Henderson, was bustling with activity on the last Wednesday of July. Although it was the middle of the night, the street seemed to be alive with movement, as several news crews vied for the best position from which to report, and as several police units attempted to keep the news hounds at bay. "Back off," Louis Deckerson, a beat cop, growled at reporters from News Channel 8, as he attempted to cordon off the Conte's entire yard with yellow crime scene tape. "C'mon, there ain't nothin' to see here!"

"Nothing to see?" Susan Lockheart replied. "I see plenty!" she told the cop. "The blood is _everywhere_, and our viewers have a right to know what happened here. Who's dead? Who did the murdering? Do you have a suspect, yet?" she persistently bombarded him with question after question, waving a microphone in the young cop's face, while her cameraman attempted to get everything down on film.

"Ma'am, we won't know anything for sure, until the CSIs come in and take a look around," he told her, stepping back from the tape, and scanning the street with his eyes. _And they better get here soon_, _too, _he mused. _Because these people are about to eat me alive._

Several minutes later, Sara Sidle, clad in her black CSI vest and hat, her kit confidently held in her right hand, took a brief moment to glance around the yard, as she strode up the Conte's driveway. W_hat the hell happened here? It looks like more than one person died, and not in a painless manner_, _either_, she thought to herself, shivering as the slight nighttime desert breeze hit her hot and flushed skin. _And why are all of these reporters here? People die every day, unfortunately_, she mused, spotting Brass up ahead, standing beside the front doorway. Nodding at the detective in greeting the moment that she reached his side, she frowned. "What do we have?" she asked him in a businesslike manner, ignoring the stares from the reporters anxiously awaiting for someone to throw them a little tidbit of information.

"We have a doozey on our hands, that's what we have," Brass commented, glancing through the still open doorway. "Who are you working with tonight?"

"I'm solo, actually," Sara flashed him a small smile.

"Oh?" Brass asked, raising an eyebrow. "I hope that Grissom knows what he's gotten you into," he sighed, waving at all of the news vans.

_What is THAT supposed to mean? _Sara wanted to ask, slightly confused. Clearing her throat, though, she bit her tongue, glancing at Brass. "So, what's going on? And why are there so many reporters here?"

"Lindsey Conte," Brass started to recite the specifics of the case, without the use of his notebook. "Thirty-five, mother of two, the wife of Jason Conte."

Sara's eyes widened in surprise, as she started to understand. "The realestate mogul?"

"The one and only," Brass affirmed. "As I said, she is the mother of two: a girl, age ten, named Julie, and a boy, seven years old, named Rory. Both kids are out of town visiting their grandmother," he continued.

"And the husband?" Sara prodded him.

"So far, the hubby's whereabouts are unknown."

Sara nodded, filing the information away for later use. "Where was she found?" she then asked, once again scanning the yard in confusion. _There is quite a bit of blood out here; so, where's the body?_

Brass glanced at Sara, as if following her train of thought. "The body was found indoors, by the couch, but there is a lot of blood outside, as well."

"And no one has touched a thing?" Sara continued, opening up her kit long enough to pull out a pair of gloves, immediately slapping them on.

"Of course not, Sara," Brass frowned. "The scene is completely undisturbed."

Sara again nodded, studying the ground just in front of the doorway. "Can we get everyone out of the house?" she asked after a moment. "They're walking through possible evidence."

Brass immediately waved to someone inside of the Conte's home, ordering everyone to move on out. "The place has already been cleared, obviously," he told her. "So you'll be safe."

"Okay," she replied, lost in thought, as she very carefully walked into the spacious foyer. "Just watch your step, Jim," she added, noticing that he was already following her inside. Scanning the hallway, she visually followed the trail of blood, frowning, when it ended right by the couch; and right at the bloodied body of Lindsey Conte. _What the hell happened to you?_ Sara swallowed the bile forming in her throat, as she slowly made her way toward the victim. _God, I feel so sick._

"The husband was supposed to be at a work meeting," Brass continued, not wanting to intrude on Sara's analytical train of thought, but wanting her to know the full details of the case.

"But he wasn't?" Sara probed, thankful that Brass was saying something—anything—to keep her mind off of the young woman up ahead.

"No," he replied. "We called his office, but there _was _no meeting scheduled for tonight."

"So he could be anywhere," Sara mused, as they finally reached the living room. Kneeling down beside Lindsey Conte, and without touching her, she scanned the body for any obvious pieces of evidence. "She struggled," Sara quietly told Brass, glancing down at the woman's hands. "Torn fingernails, blood under her nails, scratches on her palm," she pointed to Lindsey's right hand, which was facing upwards. "She fought back; and she fought back hard."

Brass uncomfortably nodded, as he glanced around the rest of the room. "You're going to have your work cut out for you tonight, Sara," he commented. "Perhaps you should call Gil, and get some backup?"

Sara slowly shook her head from side to side. "We're tapped out for tonight, although I'm sure that he will call in the dayshift, when he realizes how busy we're all going to be."

"Alright," Brass simply replied. "Let me know if you need anything else, okay? I'm going to post someone just inside of the house, while I go and talk to the neighbors. David should be here soon, too," he added, before walking out of the front door.

"Fine," Sara mumbled after he was gone, standing up, her mind already back on the task at hand. Setting her kit down on the floor beside her, she reached in, grabbing a swab. "I'm going to find out who did this to you, and we're going to nail his or her ass to the wall," she vehemently promised Lindsey Conte's dead body.

---------------

**The Sidle Residence, present time**

"I took swab after swab," Sara sighed, twisting her head so that she could glance up at Warrick. "But everything pointed back to Lindsey."

Warrick nodded, as he absentmindedly rubbed Sara's shoulder with his thumb. "So essentially," he mused. "We know nothing."

Sara slowly nodded, her mind zeroing in on Warrick's soft touch, rather than on the case itself. Sighing, and moving her body closer to his own, she frowned. "If I could just find the hammer, I know that I could crack this case wide open," she finally told him.

"Where have you already looked for it?" he prompted her, staring straight ahead, deep in thought.

"Where _haven't _I looked for it, is the better question," Sara raised an eyebrow, as she slid down Warrick's body, laying on her back, her head resting in his lap.

Warrick draped his arm across Sara's stomach, his thumb slowly brushing against her stomach, rather than her arm.

"I've searched the bedrooms, the closets, the—" she trailed off, once again focusing on the movement of his fingers.

Oblivious to Sara's discomfort, Warrick quietly listened to her tell him about the case, his thumb still moving against her body.

"Do you mind?" Sara whispered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"What?" Warrick furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"I can't concentrate," she admitted with a small smile. When the look of confusion on his face did not abate, she rested her hand on top of the hand that he had draped across her stomach, tapping his thumb with her forefinger. "Stop moving it."

Warrick raised an eyebrow, but did as she asked. _Damn_, he thought to himself, wanting to laugh in giddiness, but somehow managing to refrain from doing so. _I'm sitting with Sara, on her couch, with my hand resting on her stomach._ "So… continue?" he asked, clearing his throat.

Sara nodded. "I checked every room in the house, including the basement, the bathrooms, the home office, and even the flower garden out back. I'm telling you, Warrick. The place is huge, but I searched it at length. I found one hammer in the garage, and bagged it. It came up clean, though, with absolutely nothing on it. I don't know where else to look! There has to be _something _in that house that I'm missing; blood, semen, sweat, something!"

"Let's go back to the house, then," Warrick suddenly suggested. "Let me help you look. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, right?" he quietly asked her, his mind already made up. "Let's go see if we can solve this case of yours."

Sara carefully sat up, crawling out of Warrick's lap, and standing up. "I would appreciate that," she finally admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Good," Warrick grinned at her. "Because damn, girl; after we close this case, you're going to owe me. You're going to owe me big."

"Oh, I am, am I?" Sara raised a teasing eyebrow.

"Yes, you are. Dinner and a movie, on me."

"So, how does that equate to me repaying you?" Sara asked, a gleam in her eye.

"Because I get to hold your hand during the movie, and when I walk you back to your apartment for the night, I get to give you a goodnight kiss."

"I see," Sara smiled, pretending to mull over the proposition. "Well, then in that case, I do believe that you have yourself a deal, Mr. Brown."

---------------

TO BE CONTINUED 


	8. The Crime Scene

**A/N: **I would like to take a moment to thank everyone who read and/or reviewed the last chapter. I really (really) appreciate it! As well, I think that there will only be one or two more chapters to go (expect some major 'aww' moments in the next chapter), and I am hoping to finish this fic before I leave for vacation on the 19th. So keep your fingers crossed that I can do it, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter!

---------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_The Crime Scene_

---------------

**The Sidle Residence**

"What about the husband?" Warrick suddenly asked, as he grabbed his keys, wallet, badge, and firearm, from the table beside the door. "When did he re-enter the picture?"

Sara closed her eyes in thought for a moment, thinking through her answer. "He eventually returned to his home around two in the morning," she began, grabbing her own badge and firearm. "And he seemed pretty shocked, I have to admit; like he wasn't expecting to see so many flashing lights around his home."

"Why, what did he do?" Warrick questioned her, raising an eyebrow, as his fist closed around the doorknob. Twisting the knob, he yanked the door open, stepping slightly to the side so that Sara could walk past him.

"He ran to his wife's body, and immediately started crying," she informed him. "His face got pale, and he seemed genuinely upset. Then again, he could very well have just been acting," she shrugged, as she walked past Warrick, her elbow slightly grazing his chest.

"True," Warrick replied. "So how did he try to explain the lack of a meeting?"

"Actually," Sara frowned, locking the door behind them both. "He didn't try to hide it; he said that there never was a meeting, but that he just needed a night away from his wife. He claims," she mused. "That he spent the night at a bar downtown, just clearing his head."

"I see," Warrick slowly stated, as he tried to process that particular fact. "So his marriage is—or was—on the rocks?" he questioned Sara, swaggering toward his car, and opening the passenger-side door for her.

"He claims that their marriage was fine," she admitted, sliding into the Denali, and immediately buckling herself in. "But that he just needed one night to himself. Then again," she continued. "If he feels the need to take a night off, well, I don't know how good his marriage could have been in the first place."

Warrick simply nodded, as he drove toward the crime scene. "Why don't you go ahead and call Brass, and tell him where we're headed?" he calmly suggested, his eyes on the road.

"Sure," Sara replied. Pulling out her cell phone, and flipping it open, she hit the speed dial number assigned to Brass. "Hi, Jim," she quietly said into the receiver, after he picked up. "Warrick and I are on our way over to the Conte home now, to look for more evidence," she informed him. "You'll have back-up there for us within ten minutes? Excellent, thank you! You, too!" She added, before hanging up the phone.

"All set, girl?" Warrick grinned, chancing a quick look at her.

"All set," Sara confirmed. "And again, thank you for coming along with me."

"Don't thank me," Warrick chuckled. "Trust me, it's my pleasure." _And things will only get better, once this case is solved._

Sara just smiled, as they continued to drive in silence.

---------------

**The Conte Residence**

"Good," Warrick mused, as they pulled up in front of the Conte's home, parking along the side of the road. "The officer is already here, which means that we can go ahead and get started."

"Right," Sara nodded, reaching over and putting her hand on Warrick's arm for a moment, in order to stop him from getting out of the car. "But what, exactly, are we going to do?" she softly asked him. "I mean, I've looked everywhere inside and outside of this house; I don't know where else that hammer could possibly be, Rick," she frowned, her feeling of despair starting to return.

Turning to look at Sara, Warrick put his hand over her own, gently squeezing it. "Hey, girl, give yourself a break, okay?" he hesitantly advised her. "You need to breathe, and you need to focus. You and I will retrace your steps, and we'll see what we can find. But in order to find anything, you're going to need to calm down," he quietly told her.

"I know," Sara sighed. "I know, and you're right." Removing her hand from his arm, she glanced out of her window, before opening the door, and climbing out. "And I am calm," she mumbled. "I just want to find Lindsey's killer, and it's bothering me that I am missing something so key. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, girl, I know what you mean," Warrick admitted, climbing out of the Denali, and locking the door behind him. "But that is why we're going to work together to solve this case, right here, and right now, okay?"

"Okay," Sara smiled, before glancing up the driveway, and heading toward the door. "So do you want to start inside or outside, first?"

Warrick shrugged. "I guess we might as well take a cursory look around inside of the house first," he mused, following her up the driveway. "Just so that you can show me what you've already done."

Sara again nodded, as they approached the officer standing guard in front of the house. "Officer Pierce," she greeted him. "Any changes to report?"

"No, Ma'am," he replied. "Mr. Conte stopped by earlier tonight, though, just to pick up some clothing. He's been staying at his mother's house, while his house is under investigation."

"And someone followed him while he was inside?" she asked the young officer, glancing at the closed front door.

"Yes, Ma'am," he confirmed with a small smile. "The man wasn't alone for more than a moment."

"Good," Sara nodded, as she slipped on a pair of gloves, and opened the front door. "Ready, Rick?" she quietly asked.

"Of course," Warrick assured her, as he followed her inside. "So walk me through what you did?" he suggested.

"Well," Sara cleared her throat. "When Jim and I first entered the house, I noticed the trail of blood leading from the doorway to the couch," she pointed along the tiled floor. "The trail was made by a combination of footprints, and of something being dragged."

"So someone obviously stepped in some blood at some point," Warrick stated the obvious.

"Exactly," Sara confirmed, as the two criminalists stood in the foyer of the large home, just glancing around themselves. "I measured the footprints, and they match a size seven shoe; Lindsey wore a size five," Sara continued. "So she couldn't have made the prints on her own, even before she died."

"And the husband?" Warrick prompted Sara, his eyes studying the foyer.

"Size nine," she replied.

"So then obviously," he continued. "It wasn't his shoe that stepped through the blood. He would have been able to wear a larger shoe, but not a smaller one. And as for the size seven itself—" he started to point.

"I know," Sara flashed him a small smile. "It could belong to a woman with larger feet, or a smaller male."

"Exactly," Warrick grinned at her. "Just what I was thinking."

"And just what I was thinking earlier this week," Sara sighed.

"Hey, Girl," Warrick frowned, turning to look at her. "Don't look so despondent, okay? We just got here, so keep walking me through the scene," he tried to prod her, reaching a hand out, and lightly placing it on her arm for a moment.

"Okay," Sara nodded, trying to smile for Warrick's sake. "So, Jim and I walked into the living room, where we found Lindsey's body." Starting to walk down the hallway, Sara pulled out a flashlight, shining it along the floor. "We found her right about here," she informed him, shining the light on the ground just next to the couch. "Although nothing was overturned in this room."

"So, do you think she was killed in here? Or somewhere else?" Warrick asked, his gaze sweeping the contents of the living room. Aside from the blood stains just next to the couch, the rest of the room was in pristine condition; nothing was out of place, and everything seemed normal.

"There was a lot of blood out on the front lawn," Sara replied. "And nothing out back, actually."

"So the crime could have been committed out front," Warrick mused.

"Correct. Except, wouldn't you, as a neighbor, notice a crime being committed in your neighbor's front yard? It just doesn't add up!" Sara frowned.

Warrick shrugged. "Not necessarily, Girl. The neighbors might have been gone for the night, or watching television, or just—" he trailed off.

"But she was bludgeoned to death, Warrick," Sara pointed out. "She probably made a lot of noise. Are these people so into themselves, that they just ignore everyone else?" she sadly asked him.

"I don't know, Sara," he stated. "I really don't. But let's take a look outside, okay?" Putting one of his hands on the small of her back, Warrick carefully guided her back out of the front door, removing his hand, in order to walk side by side with her toward the backyard. "Can you take me through what you did next?" he hesitantly asked, turning to look at her.

"Of course," Sara mumbled, scanning the backyard. "There isn't much to tell, though. I came out back, and found absolutely nothing; no footprints, no trace, no evidence. I even climbed up those trees over there, and looked inside of the tree house," she added, pointing to an enclosed wooden tree house sitting in a stand of trees in the far-right hand corner of the luscious yard.

Warrick turned to glance at the tree house, whistling. "Damn, Girl. I always wanted one of those, you know that?" he chuckled, slowly walking over to the fort of sorts, and looking up at it in awe. "My Dad refused to build one for me, though," he softly explained.

"And you couldn't build it by yourself?" she teased him.

"Nah, not the kind of fort that I was envisioning," he grinned, before his smile suddenly faded, only to be replaced by a look of utter confusion. "But hey, wait a minute."

"What? What is it?" Sara quietly asked, walking over to stand beside him. Looking up at the tree house, she noticed a jacket covered with definite red-splotches, haphazardly slung out of one of the windows. "That wasn't there before, Warrick," she nervously whispered to him. "Really; it wasn't there before," she repeated. _And is that blood? Is there blood on that jacket? Is there someone inside of that tree house right now, watching our every move? Someone with a weapon?_

Warrick nodded his understanding, pulling out his gun, and cocking it. _This could get ugly pretty fast, if there is someone in there with a weapon of some sort._

Before either of the two criminalists could react any further, however, a red-haired boy of around nineteen poked his head out of the tree house window closest to their present location. "Wh-who's out there? Who are you?" he boldly asked them.

Immediately stepping in front of Sara as if attempting to protect her from the potential threat, Warrick aimed his gun up at the young man. "LVMPD, although I think the real question," he hissed. "Is who the hell are _you_?"

---------------

TO BE CONTINUED 


	9. Solved!

**A/N: **Thank you to **CalleighSaraCSI**, **Cherrydrops12**, **clarkson04**, and **MissyJane**, for your comments on the previous chapter. I think I've got one more chapter to go, so I guess we'll see what happens! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_Solved!_

---------------

_Who the hell is that? _Sara anxiously asked herself, pulling out her own gun, and training it on the nineteen-year old boy. _And why does he have a bloody jacket? And… is Warrick trying to protect me? _A tiny part of her brain wanted to know, even amidst the current crisis.

"Come on out, with your hands up!" Warrick yelled at the young man, squinting up at the window, looking for any sign that the boy was reaching for a weapon. And then a little bit more loudly, "Officer Pierce! We need some backup over here!"

"Okay, okay! I'm coming down," the boy nervously whispered, immediately sticking his hands up in the air, attempting to let the two criminalists know that he was coming down, and that he wasn't going to try to hurt them. "I'm going to climb down the ladder," he called out.

"Nice and slow," Warrick warned him, throwing a quick glance at Sara to ensure that she was actually safe. "And when you get to the bottom, put your hands up in the air again!"

"Okay," the boy swallowed, doing as Warrick ordered him to do, and climbing down the ladder as slowly as possible. With his feet firmly planted on the ground, the boy hesitantly turned around to face Warrick and Sara, once again returning his hands to the air.

"Who the hell are you?" Warrick repeated his earlier question.

"Jimmy," he anxiously told them, his eyes wide with fear. "Jimmy Dobson."

"What are you doing up there, Jimmy?" Sara asked him, her eyes scanning his body for any signs of something amiss. _No blood, but then again, the crime was committed last week, so there is no really no reason to find blood on your clothing now. Your face, however, _she observed. _What happened to your face?_

"I was," he paused to think. "I was getting something!" he informed Sara.

Warrick narrowed his eyes, glancing over his shoulder, and looking for Officer Pierce. "Are you a neighbor?" he questioned Jimmy.

"No, Sir. I'm a… friend."

"Of whom?" Sara frowned, a little bit confused. _Her kids are seven and ten years old, so who, exactly, are you friends with? Jason Conte?_

Jimmy slowly shook his head from side to side, his face pale. "Lindsey Conte."

Sara and Warrick exchanged surprised glances, as Officer Pierce finally arrived out back. "What's going on here?" he asked, his own gun out, and his eyes frantically searching the backyard.

"We need this man taken back to the station for questioning," Warrick informed the young officer.

"Questioning?" Jimmy swallowed, his nervousness palpable, as Pierce approached him, his gun still out in front of him.

Sara nodded, pursing her lips. "We would like to question you about Lindsey Conte's murder."

"But I didn't… I mean I wouldn't… I mean, I love her!" Jimmy blurted out, as Pierce patted him down, just to be sure.

"Let's go," the officer frowned, grabbing Jimmy by the elbow, and leading him back to the squad car.

"But I didn't—" Jimmy tried again.

"Save it," Pierce growled at him.

Once the two men were gone, Sara re-holstered her weapon, looking up at Warrick. "He loves her?" she hesitantly asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It would seem so," Warrick replied, glancing up at the tree house. "I'm going to take a quick look up there," he informed her, taking a step toward the tree house.

"No," Sara stopped him, reaching a hand out, and placing it on his shoulder. "No, let me do it," she confidentially told him, briskly walking toward the tree house, her kit clutched tightly in one hand.

"Sara, make sure that you clear the place first," he reminded her. "You never know who else could be up there."

"Got it," Sara assured him, as she took a deep breath, and very carefully climbed, hand over hand, and fist over fist, up to the tree house's platform. Her gun held out in front of her, Sara inched into the main room of the fort, glancing around. "It's clear," she called down to Warrick, who was anxiously peering up at the tree house.

"What else is up there?" he asked, his gun still out, as if prepared for something to jump out at them.

Looking around the fairly spacious room, Sara knelt down, studying the floor. "Uh—"

"Damn, Girl, what is it?" Warrick queried, his eyes still wide and alert.

Grabbing a swab, Sara took a sample of blood, her eyes traveling along the length of the floor, searching for more pieces of the elusive evidence. "More blood," she called down to him, scooting along the floor, and taking a couple of more samples of the dried substance. "None of this was here last week, though," she added with a slightly perplexed expression on her face.

"Anything else, besides the blood?" Warrick persisted.

Sara was about to shake her head no, when she spotted a chest in the corner of the room. Inching toward it, she very carefully studied the exterior of the container, taking several pictures of it, before opening up the top. Her breath catching in her throat, Sara let out a loud gasp of surprise.

"Sara? Are you okay?" Warrick nervously called out, already moving toward the ladder to assure himself of the fact that she was still unharmed.

"Yes, Warrick, I'm fine," she hesitated, peering into the chest, and taking several more pictures, before reaching for the object.

"What else did you find?" he asked, peering up the length of the ladder, still contemplating the idea of climbing up it in order to join her.

"Let's just say," Sara softly chuckled, still busy collecting the evidence.

"Let's just say what?" Warrick prompted her, one fist on the base of the ladder.

"Let's just say," Sara continued. "That we're going out to dinner and a movie."

"Damn, you found the hammer?" he eagerly asked, his entire face lighting up.

"No, Warrick," Sara chuckled, bagging the item. "_We _found the hammer."

---------------

**The Break Room, later the following day**

"Seriously, Bro?" Nick asked Warrick, his eyes glued to him.

"Sara closed the case," Warrick nodded at his friend. "After she found the hammer, and finished processing the tree house, we brought all of the evidence back to the lab. The evidence, combined with Jimmy's statement, explained everything."

"What explained everything?" Sara asked, walking into the break room, and immediately heading toward the coffee maker. Pouring herself a cup of the tepid liquid, she grimaced, after taking a sip.

"Your case," Warrick grinned at her. "The evidence that you found, in conjunction with Jimmy's statement—and Jason Conte's confession—cleared everything up."

"It sure did," Sara agreed, sitting down beside Warrick, and across from Nick.

"So fill me in?" Nick asked. "What actually happened?"

Sara took another sip of the coffee, frowning at the taste. "Well apparently, Jason Conte isn't as faithful to his wife as he originally claimed," she began her story. "Because although he was actually at a bar, he was there with his mistress, rather than by himself."

"Mistress?" Catherine asked, walking into the room. "Someone has a mistress?"

"Jason Conte," Nick told her, glancing at her for a moment.

"Your case, Sara? You solved it?" Catherine queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Sara confirmed. "Warrick and I solved it this morning."

"So who did it?" Catherine prompted her, sitting down beside Nick, her hands on the table in front of her.

"As I was saying," Sara flashed each of her colleagues a small smile. "Jason Conte was at the bar with Juliette Smith, his mistress. The only thing is," she continued. "Is that Lindsey Conte was also seeing someone else on the side."

"Who?" Greg asked, joining the conversation, and throwing himself down on the couch. "Let me guess," he chuckled. "The someone on the side is a pool boy?"

"This isn't _Desperate Housewives_, Greg," Catherine rolled her eyes at him. "So no, she wasn't seeing the pool boy; she wasn't, right, Sara?"

Sara slowly shook her head no. "She was seeing Jimmy Dobson, a local car mechanic," she informed everyone. "When we spoke with him, he claimed that he was in love with her, and that he would have done anything to protect her."

"So he didn't kill her?" Nick furrowed his eyebrows in puzzlement.

"No, not exactly. Apparently, Jason Conte returned home early on the night that she was murdered, intoxicated beyond belief. He found Lindsey and Jimmy in bed with one another, and got pretty angry about it."

"Well I'd be angry, too," Warrick sulkily spoke up, glancing at the table. _Because if you recall, I found my wife in bed with another man._

"That might be, Warrick, but you would never kill someone over an affair," Sara pointed out, her face slightly flushing. _Shit… I forgot about his situation!_

"True," Warrick agreed, sighing. "True. Okay, continue, Girl."

Sara nodded, swallowing. "So, Jason ran out to the garage, grabbed one of his hammers, and immediately ran back to his bedroom. He dragged Lindsey outside, completely ignoring Jimmy, and killed her with the hammer."

"And Jimmy just let this happen?" Nick frowned, raising an eyebrow. "No call to 9-1-1? No help to her?"

Sara shrugged. "He said that he was scared to death, and that by the time that he made it outside, Jason was already dragging Lindsey's limp body back inside. He walked through her blood—leaving the size seven footprints—and grabbed the hammer, thinking that Jason would try to kill him, as well, or even just try to destroy the evidence. He took it with him, returning to the home one week later, in order to re-hide it."

"I don't understand," Greg shook his head. "Jimmy let his lover die, stole the evidence, and then tried to re-plant it? Why would he do that?" he asked in confusion.

"Simple, man," Nick replied. "He didn't want to be blamed for the crime. Dobson. Ring a bell?"

Greg again slowly shook his head, trying to think of why that name should sound familiar to him.

"Dobson," Catherine quietly said the name aloud. "Jimmy Dobson. The senator's kid?" she raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"That's what I'm guessing. Am I right, Sara?" Nick asked, feeling pleased with himself fr deducing why the name was important.

"Yes," Sara simply replied. "Jimmy did not want to ruin his father's chances of re-election, so he attempted to separate himself from the crime."

"In a sense, almost letting a killer go free," Nick sighed, pushing his chair back, and standing up from the table.

"Exactly," Sara acknowledged, glancing up at Nick.

"Well in any event, nice job with your case, Sar," he flashed her a small smile, grabbing himself a cup of coffee, and heading toward the door. "And I'll see you all tomorrow," he added, immediately walking out of the break room.

"I need to get home to Lindsey," Catherine cleared her throat, also standing up, and rubbing the back of her neck. "It's been a long week," she mumbled, before turning around, and exiting the room.

"Do you guys have any fun plans for the weekend?" Greg then asked Sara and Warrick, getting up off of the couch, and walking toward the table.

Sara tried not to blush, glancing over at Greg. "I'm going out to dinner," she told Greg.

"And I'm watching a movie," Warrick added. "Well, at home, anyhow. I'm cooking dinner, and renting a movie," he explained, unobtrusively resting one of his hands on Sara's knee. _With you, Girl; I hope that you like this idea, anyhow._

Sara's eyes widened in surprise, as her face flushed even harder. "Really? What are you making?" she curiously asked.

Warrick shrugged. "I'm thinking some Alfredo," he told her. "Or perhaps some pasta with garlic bread."

Sara swallowed, staring at Warrick. _Are we doing the dinner and a movie date at your house? _She wanted to ask him. _Or have you changed your mind? You did say that you were still having dinner and a movie; it's got to be with me, right? Hence your hand on my knee?_

"Can I come over, Dude?" Greg suddenly asked, raising his eyebrows at Warrick. "That sounds like some serious fun!"

"Sorry, man," Warrick chuckled. "I've got some very special plans."

"With a woman?" Greg grinned, raising a knowing eyebrow.

Sara tried not to choke on her coffee, as she stared straight ahead.

"Yes, Greg, with a woman."

"Well, enjoy your date, Warrick… and Sara," he laughed, bounding out of the break room.

"How does he do that?" Warrick asked, shaking his head in surprise. "How does he _always _do that?"

"It's a gift!" Greg poked his head back into the break room for a moment, before really taking off down the hallway.

Sara just smiled, trying to make the heat leave her face. "Are we really," she hesitated. "Are we really going to have dinner, and watch a movie, at your place?" she wanted to know.

Warrick slowly nodded yes, turning his head to the side so that he could look at her. "If that's okay with you…?" he asked. "I mean, I'm not afraid to be seen out in public with you or anything like that, Girl," he rambled on. "I don't care if people know that we're together, but… I feel like being selfish right now, and I want you all to myself." _And I want to sit next to you, and I want to hold you, and I want to kiss you, and then I want to hold you some more._

Sara simply beamed at him. _That's fine, because I want you all to myself, too_.

Clearing his throat, Warrick continued. "My new apartment is small, but it's cozy."

"Cozy can be nice," Sara smiled. "Cozy can be very nice."

---------------

TO BE CONTINUED 


	10. The Date

**A/N: **First of all, I am feeling slightly (really!) unsure about this chapter, so I hope that you all enjoy it. Second of all, thank you to everyone who has continued to read and/or review my very first Swarrick fic ever. I appreciate your support and encouragement throughout the writing of this entire thing, and trust me, your comments continuously made my day! That being said, I believe that it is time for _Dinner and a Movie _to receive a _finis_, rather than a TO BE CONTINUED sign at the end. I sincerely hope that you enjoyed reading this story, as much as I enjoyed writing it!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_The Date_

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**Warrick's Apartment**

"I'm sorry that it's so small," Warrick apologized to Sara for the umpteenth time, as he opened the front door for her, allowing her to walk past him and into his place.

"But it _does_ have coziness potential," she reminded him, glancing around the tiny living room, and noticing the sparse furniture.

"It does?" Warrick asked, setting his keys and wallet down on the table by the front door.

"Well…it might," she teased him, flashing him a small smile. "It all depends."

"On what?" Warrick queried, as he swaggered into the kitchen, opening up the refrigerator to see what he could make for dinner.

"Well, do you have a couch?" she asked, following him into the kitchen.

"Of course," Warrick confirmed.

"And a blanket?" she continued.

"I like where this is going," Warrick grinned at her.

"So if we have a couch, and a blanket, and the two of us," Sara mused. "I'm pretty sure that your apartment could be classified as cozy. Don't you concur?"

Warrick chuckled, an amused twinkle in his eye. "I think that my apartment is cozy, then," he told her, before turning around again to face the refrigerator. "So what are you in the mood for, Girl?"

_Other than you? _"What do you have?" she asked.

_Other than me? _"Pasta, breakfast foods, uh," he scanned the contents of his refrigerator. "That would be about it; pasta and breakfast foods. Unless you want to have something delivered? Pizza? Chinese?"

Sara slowly shook her head from side to side, before smiling at him. "No one has _ever _made me breakfast before, so can we have something along those lines?"

"Breakfast it is. Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" Warrick suggested, nodding his head toward the couch.

Sara again shook her head no, instead, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "I want to watch you cook, if that's okay with you?"

Warrick chuckled. "Sure, whatever you want, Sara," he told her, grabbing a box of pancake mix, a measuring cup, eggs, and butter, and turning the burner on so that it had the chance to warm up.

Sara raised an eyebrow in amusement, staring at Warrick. "You, uh, measure everything out?" she teasingly asked him.

"Why, you don't?"

"I just eyeball it," Sara admitted. "But measuring is good, too," she smiled.

"So, why don't you come show me how it's done, then, Rachel Ray?" Warrick grinned at her, turning around to face her.

"You're doing just fine on your own," Sara smirked. "I think I'll just stay right here."

"Nope, not anymore," Warrick told her, walking over to the table, and holding his hand out to her. "Up and at 'em. You are officially helping me with breakfast," he smiled, when she finally took his proffered hand. Immediately pulling her to him, and wrapping his arms tightly around her body, he raised an eyebrow. "Oops," he commented. "Damn, Girl, you tripped."

"I did, did I?" Sara laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist, and looking up at him, as her face slowly turned red.

"I do believe that that is why you landed in my arms," Warrick seriously informed her.

"Well, then I suppose it's a good thing that you were here to catch me," she replied with a smile, licking her lips in anticipation of what she thought was about to happen.

"Yes, it is _definitely_ a good thing," Warrick murmured, as he closed his eyes, and leaned toward her.

Before he had a chance to press his lips to hers, however, an alarm suddenly filled the air, forcing Sara to jump in surprise, and causing her to scream in shock. "What the hell is that?" she yelled at Warrick.

Warrick, equally as surprised, immediately released Sara, his eyes darting around the kitchen, looking for the offending noise. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, briskly running to the stove. "I forgot to turn it off," he frowned. _Of all of the stupid, ill-timed, things to do; we were SO close!_

Sara, her arms held across her chest, just chuckled, as she watched him. "Alright, Iron Chef," she teased him. "Why don't you go ahead and make the pancakes, and I'll… pick out a movie?" she suggested, already walking toward his living room. "I don't suppose that you have any romantic comedies lying around here?"

Warrick grinned, as he cleaned out the now semi-burned pan, starting to mix and pour the necessary ingredients into another bowl. "Afraid not," he admitted. "But you should still be able to find something that you'll enjoy. The videos are in the cabinet under the television set, so help yourself."

Sara simply nodded, as she knelt down next to his television, and started thumbing through his movies. _Superman; hmm, you can be my Superman,_ she chuckled to herself, setting the video aside. _Gladiator? Yeah, you can be my gladiator, too. X-Men, Total Recall, Searching for Bobby Fischer_. "Searching for Bobby Fischer?" she asked aloud, a little bit surprised. "Really?"

"I like chess," Warrick reminded her. "And that kid is amazing," he shrugged, flipping the pancakes. "Is that the movie that you'd like to see?"

"If you don't mind," Sara replied, picking the DVD up in her hands, and setting it down on the coffee table. Slowly walking into the kitchen, she leaned against the wall, watching Warrick cook. "How's it going?"

"Almost done," he grinned. "Want to flip some of the pancakes?"

"Sure," Sara smiled, walking toward him, and taking the spatula out of his hands. Staring at the pan, she watched the oil sizzle.

Behind her, Warrick cleared his throat, before stepping closer to her, and hesitantly wrapping his arms around her body.

"What are you doing…?" Sara murmured, once again feeling her heart start to pound in her chest.

"I'm… holding you?" he cautiously replied, taking another step closer to her, and holding her more securely and comfortably in his arms.

"But this doesn't count as the before-mentioned holding, right?" Sara bit her lip, still staring at the pan. "Because… I mean," she paused. "It wouldn't exactly be fair to me, unless I was able to hold you, as well," she pointed out.

Warrick chuckled, his lip just next to her ear. "Right; I'm still going to hold you later on, too, and then you can hold me, as well. But remember, I'm selfish; I might not want to let go of you," he warned, closing his eyes for a moment, and trying his hardest not to kiss her right then and there. Drawing on his self-control, Warrick reluctantly released Sara from his hold, moving toward one of the cabinets, and pulling down several plates and dishes.

Trembling at the slight contact, and then at the sudden lack thereof of it, Sara took a deep breath, in the hopes of steadying her nerves. "That's alright, because I'm pretty selfish, too," she swallowed, flipping the remaining pancake, and shutting off the burner. _More so than you can imagine. _Carrying the plate of pancakes over to the table, Sara set them down, glancing over at Warrick. "Ready to eat?"

"You bet," he smiled at her. _Because after we eat, I get to hold you again, and then kiss you, and then hold you some more._

_Good, because I'm going to eat fast_, she told herself. _Because after we eat, I want you to hold me, and then kiss me, and then maybe even hold me some more._

"How do you like the pancakes, Girl?" Warrick asked, after they had been eating for five or so minutes.

"They're good," Sara admitted. "Maybe there's something to be said about that whole measuring thing."

Warrick just chuckled, as he took another large forkful of his dinner. _I have to finish these soon. I want to hold her! _"Well," he hesitated. "You could always make me some pancakes the next time that we have pancakes together, and then we can compare notes."

Sara smiled, as she shoveled another forkful of pancakes into her mouth. "That sounds like a good idea," she told him. _Next time? That means that there is going to be another date! _"But unfortunately," she sighed, pushing her plate away. "I'm full."

"Me, too, actually," Warrick agreed, as he quickly stood up, and grabbed Sara's plate for her. Carrying both of their dishes to the sink, he glanced over his shoulder at her. "You can get settled on the couch, though, if you'd like," he smiled, as he headed back toward the table to get their silverware and glasses. Depositing them into the sink, he grinned in anticipation.

Sara just nodded, as she meandered into the living room, sitting down at one end of the couch. Sighing, she swung both of her legs up onto the cushions, a contented expression on her face.

"Here you go," Warrick suddenly said from behind her, gently setting a blanket down on top of her prone body. "I believe you said that we needed a blanket, in order to create a cozy environment?"

"Yes, I did," Sara chuckled, as she placed it over herself. "Hurry back, though, okay? I believe that you were also a part of the coziness equation."

Warrick nodded, as he grabbed the DVD off of the coffee table, and stuck it into the machine. "I'll clean up the rest later," he grinned at her, walking back over to the couch, and lifting her feet up. Throwing himself down, and setting her feet down in his lap, he hit the play button, trying to make himself more comfortable.

Sara, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow at Warrick. "Weren't you going to hold me or something?" she quizzed him.

"Or something," Warrick replied, picking up one of her feet, and gently pressing his fingers into the sole of her foot.

Sara gave another contented sigh, as she half-closed her eyes. "What are you doing?" she softly asked him.

"Just relax, Girl," Warrick calmly told her, as he continued to massage her foot, gently pulling her sock down, so that she could feel the warmth emanating from his hands.

"And what are you doing now?" she continued, taking a deep breath. "God, that feels so good," she admitted, licking her lips.

"Shh, Sara." Closing his eyes, Warrick dug his thumbs into the soles of her foot, before sliding his hands up to her toes, and gently rolling each individual toe in between two of his fingers.

Sara let out a soft moan, as she slid further down on the couch, looking up at Warrick though half-closed eyes. "Don't stop," she mumbled, feeling herself relax at his touch. _Please, just don't stop!_

"I won't," Warrick promised. "Although your other foot is probably feeling a little bit left out, Girl." _Your skin is so soft and smooth, Sara._

"Uh-huh, it is," Sara whispered, pulling her one foot out of Warrick's grasp, and immediately lifting the other one up off of his lap.

Warrick just chuckled, as he gently grasped the foot in his hands, once again softly rubbing it. "How's that feel?" he quietly asked.

"Mmfg," she sighed. _Please don't stop; really, please don't stop. That feels so good; your hands are so warm! God…_

_That good, huh? Well, damn, Girl, we should have done this a long time ago, then. _Grasping her foot a little bit more tightly, Warrick slid both hands up toward her toes, once again gently rolling them between his fingers. _Do you like that, though?_

Sara's expression immediately changed, as she closed her eyes, and tried to hold back another moan. _So relaxed right now; I can't… so relaxed. _"Love you," she mumbled, before her eyes snapped open. "I mean, I, uh," she swallowed in nervousness. _Shit! Did I just really just say that out loud? What a way to ruin the mood!_

Warrick stared at Sara, as if trying to read her expression. _Do you really love me? Or are you just so relaxed, that it slipped out of your mouth by accident? I know that I love you, and I've told you that my love for you is a part of the reason that I had a hard time getting along with Tina, but…_ he swallowed.

"It's true," Sara cautiously whispered. "I really think that I love you," she told him, the nerves once again settling in, as her face turned a deep shade of red.

Smiling, Warrick very careful set her foot back down in his lap, before lifting both of them up in the air, and crawling out from underneath them. "Well, that's good," he quietly admitted. "Because I love you, too."

"Now what are you doing?" Sara asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Warrick ignored her, as he gently set her legs back down on the cushions, moving toward her head, and kneeling down on the ground beside her, so that he could better reach her.

"Warrick? What are you doing?" Sara repeated her question. _Are you finally going to kiss me? _she wondered, her heart starting to race, and her face flushing even more.

"Shh," Warrick mumbled, gently placing two fingers over her lips in order to silence her, and leaning toward her. Lightly brushing his left hand against her cheek, he continued to lean toward her, until his chest was just barely touching hers. "Is this okay?" he quietly asked, searching deep into her eyes for the answer.

"Uh-huh," Sara whispered, sliding further down on the couch, so that she was lying flat on her back. Licking her lips in anticipation, she smiled up at him, waiting for him to finally give her their first kiss together.

Warrick smiled back, before closing his eyes, and softly pressing his lips to hers. _I'm really… we're really… I can't believe that I'm kissing you!_

Sara slowly wrapped an arm around Warrick's back, drawing him closer to her, as she tried to deepen the kiss. _I just want to feel you against me, Warrick. Please! I want you to kiss me harder!_

Lightly tracing her bottom lip with his tongue, Warrick sighed in contentment, as Sara opened her mouth for him. _This is… so unreal. Damn, this is so unreal! _He thought to himself, feeling his heart rate quicken.

"Hi," Sara finally whispered, gently pushing Warrick away from herself, so that they could both take a moment to breathe.

"Hi," Warrick returned her whisper, as he lightly brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, his elbow resting on her chest.

"You're supposed to hold me," Sara quietly pointed out. "… Can you?" _And then I want you to kiss me some more._

Warrick nodded, as he very carefully got to his feet, sitting down at the other end of the couch. Holding his arms out to Sara, he was about to tell her that he was ready for her to come toward him, when he realized that she was already sitting up, and crawling toward his lap. "Hi, there," he again chuckled, raising an eyebrow as she crawled into his lap, turning to face him.

"Hold me?" Sara softly requested, as she threw a leg on either side of his lap, firmly pressing herself against him.

Warrick tightly wrapped his arms around Sara's body, drawing her closer to himself, before kissing her again. After a moment, he smiled. "Your face is all flushed," he observed.

Sara nodded. "I feel very flustered right now," she hesitantly admitted, feeling her heart still pounding inside of her chest.

"Because of me?" Warrick cautiously asked, once again pulling her closer, and gently rubbing her back.

"Uh-huh. I've never felt this comfortable with someone before, Warrick. I've never felt this safe, or this happy, or this—"

"Loved?" Warrick supplied for her. "Because damn, Girl, if you didn't already know it, I love you," he told her, his voice barely audible over the sound of their own breathing.

"I love you, too," Sara smiled at him, leaning forward for another kiss. "And I don't want you to ever stop doing this."

"Never?" Warrick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Never-ever," she confirmed, once again pressing her lips to his.

Sliding his hands down to her hips, Warrick smiled, as he deepened the kiss. Gripping her more tightly, he carefully stood up, his heart thumping, as he continued to kiss her.

_What are you doing? _Sara wanted to know. But she didn't have to wonder for very long, as Warrick carried her to his bedroom, slowly closing the behind them. "Love you," she repeated, before the door had a chance to fully thunk shut.

"Love you, too," came Warrick's loving and sincere reply.

---------------

_Finis _


End file.
